


Sherlock: Come What May

by IBegToDreamAndDiffer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, M/M, Multiple Pairings, Romance, Seduction, Sibling Incest, holmescest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBegToDreamAndDiffer/pseuds/IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just random stories I come up with about our favourite boys. There is no chronological order to these stories unless I state otherwise. There will be sex and fighting and alcohol consumption and cigarette smoke and generally any kinkiness I or others come up with. So yeah, you’ve been warned!</p>
<p>The love pairings are Sherlock/John and Mycroft/Greg. The sex pairings are any.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everyone But John

**Author's Note:**

> Ownership: Original characters are owned by Arthur Conan Doyle, these versions are owned by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. I just get to play.

**Title: Everyone But John**

**Main Pairing: Mycroft/John**

**Other: Mycroft/Greg, Sherlock/John, mentions of Sherlock/Greg, John/Greg and Sherlock/Mycroft**

**About: Mycroft has never been with John. Doctor Watson bets Greg he can resist Mycroft for one whole week... oh, how wrong he was!**

**Warning: Mentioned Holmescest**

 

‘Wait, so how many people have you slept with?’ Greg asked. He, Mycroft, John and Sherlock were all sitting in 221B enjoying food, alcohol, and random conversations.

John shrugged. ‘Dunno, haven’t kept count.’

‘How many men?’ Greg asked.

John slurped his beer and tilted his head to think. ‘Erm... about seven. First guy was when I was seventeen; I wanted to try it, you know, experiment. Well it was awful so I didn’t try again till I was about twenty or so. Then some guys in the army. And now you and Sherlock, of course.’ John turned to grin at his boyfriend, Sherlock returning the smile.

‘What about you, Sherlock?’

‘I don’t keep count,’ the genius said.

‘It’d go into the triple digits,’ Mycroft murmured from behind his wine glass.

Sherlock glared at him. ‘You’re one to talk! You have slept with each and every person I have!’ He paused. ‘Except John.’

Greg smiled at his partner. ‘You’ve slept with everyone Sherlock has?’

‘Of course,’ Mycroft said before pausing. ‘Except the women.’

‘Why not the women?’ John asked.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. ‘Because... they’re _women_.’

John chuckled and Greg smiled. ‘So you’re strictly a boy slut?’

Mycroft rolled his eyes. ‘Honestly, Gregory.’

‘Well you are,’ Sherlock said. ‘My brother has bedded all of my male partners simply to prove that he could. I told him when I was nineteen that I was better looking. He took that to mean, ‘Dear brother, please have sex with the men I have to prove you are also handsome.’’

John giggled and grabbed another slice of pizza.

‘Well I haven’t bedded John... _yet_ ,’ Mycroft said and turned his eyes on the doctor.

‘No!’ Sherlock shouted.

‘Why not?’ Mycroft demanded. ‘You and John are allowed to sleep with Gregory.’

Greg smiled as Sherlock said, ‘You couldn’t get John even if you tried.’

‘Really?’ Mycroft asked. It seemed he took Sherlock’s sentence as a challange and gave John a predatory smile.

‘Mycroft!’ Sherlock shouted.

‘Both of you calm down,’ John said, opening a new beer. ‘Sherlock, Mycroft is right. It’s not fair that we get to sleep with Greg and he doesn’t get to sleep with me.’ He paused to sip his drink. ‘I tell you what; I will try my best not to sleep with Mycroft but if I do... well, will you get mad?’

‘Yes,’ Sherlock said and crossed his arms.

‘Will you break up with me?’ John asked.

Even though they basically all had sex with each other, John and Sherlock were in love and Greg and Mycroft loved each other. The sex didn’t affect their partnerships.

Sherlock scowled and mumbled, ‘No.’

‘Okay,’ John said. ‘So what happens, happens. But I promise to resist him as long as I can.’

‘I give you a day,’ Greg said, leaning back on the couch to smile at Mycroft. ‘24 hours, John. Seriously, he’s quite extraordinary at getting men into bed.’

‘I’ll bet you fifty quid I make it a week,’ John said.

Greg grinned and grabbed the doctor’s hand. ‘You’re on. Be prepared to lose fifty pounds, Doctor Watson.’

‘I’ll make it a week,’ John said. ‘Seven whole days, starting tomorrow.’

But even Sherlock looked sceptical and Mycroft... Mycroft was downright grinning.

‘I... Gregory, can I?’ Mycroft asked suddenly.

Greg smiled. ‘’Course you can, as long as it doesn’t affect us.’ He paused. ‘And seeing as how I’m fine with you fucking Sherlock, I don’t think you with John will worry me too much.’

Mycroft’s grin returned and he said, ‘Excellent.’

‘Dear lord,’ Sherlock sighed and John chuckled.

 

-oOo-

 

John made it two days and that was only because Mycroft was working. He was alone in 221B, shuffling about in his dressing gown and yawning. He’d worked two days straight and was looking forward to some relaxation. Sherlock was at Bart’s doing something or other with a corpse so John had the whole day to himself.

He went back into the living room with a cup of tea only to find Mycroft Holmes sitting on the couch. He was wearing a jet black suit and a light blue cashmere turtle neck, the collar loose and the colour highlighting his eyes perfectly. John had seen the man naked but never this... casual. The way he shifted to smile up at John was... shit, it was downright hot.

John suddenly realised he shouldn’t have made that bet with Greg. The way Mycroft was looking at him made his skin tingle and the man hadn’t even said two words.

‘John, good afternoon,’ Mycroft said softly, voice layered with so much appeal John nearly whimpered. Jesus Christ, he could see why all of Sherlock’s partners had slept with him. Mycroft and Sherlock... they had a way about them, something manic and dangerous and so fucking hot you couldn’t help but want to rip your clothes off and mount them.

‘Er... h-hi,’ John managed.

Mycroft smiled as John sat heavily in his arm chair. ‘How are you today, John?’

‘Tired,’ John said quickly, ‘just looking at going back to bed.’

Mycroft’s smile widened. ‘Is that so? Do you want some company?’

John gulped. ‘N-no,’ he said. ‘I’m... tired.’ The last word sounded so pathetically weak, even to John’s ears.

‘Hmm,’ Mycroft murmured, brushing a hand along his leg. John watched the movement, watched the elder Holmes’ manicured nails scrape along his crotch. ‘Are you quite sure?’

‘No,’ John said breathlessly, eyes wide, tea forgotten on the coffee table.

‘Good,’ Mycroft whispered and stood. John followed his movements, swallowing convulsively as Mycroft approached him. He stood before the doctor, body lean and very tall.

‘Er...’ John managed.

Suddenly Mycroft was sitting on him, pushing their crotches together. John moaned loudly, already half-hard from Mycroft’s words. Mycroft grabbed the belt of John’s dressing gown and threaded it through his long, pale fingers.

‘W-what are you doing?’ John managed to ask.

‘Oh, just admiring this gown,’ Mycroft said, voice dripping with lust. ‘It’s quite nice.’

‘Y-yeah.’

It seemed John was going to spend the entire afternoon stuttering. Mycroft smiled and looked up at him from beneath long lashes, eyes the brightest blue John had ever seen. He now knew why Greg had sex with him, why _Sherlock_ had sex with him. Right at that moment Mycroft was the epitome of sex-appeal.

‘What do you want, John?’ Mycroft asked.

‘You,’ John said without hesitation.

‘Oh?’ Mycroft asked. ‘I thought you were going to resist me. Perhaps I should go.’

‘No!’ John shouted. ‘No, please don’t!’

Mycroft smirked and undid the belt, letting John’s dressing gown fall free. Mycroft’s right hand came up to stroke John’s chest, circling a nipple and making John shiver.

‘I thought you were going to at least try making it a week,’ Mycroft murmured.

‘I c-can’t,’ John moaned as Mycroft tweaked his nipple.

‘Oh, I know,’ Mycroft said, ‘but I thought this would be harder.’

He leaned forward and sucked back on John’s neck, the doctor pushing up to thrust their crotches together. Many, many incoherent noises left John’s mouth as Mycroft’s very talented tongue licked at his neck before moving down to his collar bone.

‘N-no,’ John whimpered, fast losing control of himself.

‘Why not?’ Mycroft asked.

‘I have a b-boyfriend.’

Mycroft smiled seductively and whispered, ‘I’ve fucked your boyfriend, John. And he’s fucked me too.’ John gulped. ‘You watched, remember? Do you remember me taking Sherlock on the floor? You must remember, you and Greg were moaning so loudly.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ John groaned.

‘Yes, that was it,’ Mycroft said softly. ‘You said that a lot that night, John.’

John squeezed his eyes shut, memories of Mycroft fucking Sherlock into the floor assaulting his mind. He knew it was wrong, they were _brothers_. But it was so hot, so very good to see the two Holmeses getting along. John knew it was more than just about sex with them; it was about connecting with the only person who knew how their minds worked, the only person who understood what it was like to live with a Holmes brain. It was still wrong but so fucking hot; they really had twisted John and Greg.

Suddenly Mycroft was standing and John whimpered in protest. But then Mycroft was dragging him up and their lips connected in a fierce, hot kiss. John moaned loudly as Mycroft’s tongue plundered his mouth, exploring thoroughly and making John go weak in the knees.

Mycroft drew his arms around John’s shoulders and slipped the gown from him. Suddenly John was naked, his erection standing tall against his stomach. Mycroft pulled away from John’s lips and looked down, smirking.

‘Oh, John,’ he said softly. ‘Just for me?’

‘Uh huh,’ was all John managed.

Mycroft dropped to his knees and licked his lips before taking John’s cock in his mouth, sucking back and twirling his tongue around the slit.

‘Oh my fucking _God_ ,’ John groaned. Sherlock and Mycroft took giving blow jobs to a whole new level. It was like an art form. Mycroft’s lips, his tongue, his teeth and his hands... they were magic, beautiful, bringing so much pleasure to John the doctor fell back to sit in the arm chair.

His cock slipped from Mycroft’s mouth, the politician tutting. ‘Honestly, John. _Gregory_ can stay standing now. Hasn’t Sherlock taught you that? Or is he not as good as me?’

John had enough brain function to glare at Mycroft. ‘Sherlock is excellent, thank you very much!’ he snarled. ‘Better than you!’

Mycroft just smirked. ‘We’ll see,’ he said and stood. He grabbed John, hauling the doctor to his feet and grabbing the dressing gown before leading John upstairs to his and Sherlock’s bedroom. There he made John get on his knees, the shorter man’s face now inches from his cock.

Mycroft unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. He pulled out his cock, palming the heavy flesh and stroking in long, precise movements. Like his brother, Mycroft was well endowed, and John’s mouth watered as he licked his lips, the smell of man and Mycroft and pre-ejaculate filling his nostrils.

‘What do you want, John?’

‘Fuck my mouth.’

‘Fuck my mouth _what_?’ Mycroft asked.

John licked his lips again before looking up at the politician. ‘Fuck my mouth... _sir_.’

Mycroft smiled. He looked so very hot, standing there still dressed with his cock out, John on his knees, naked. Mycroft was truly in control of this very steamy situation.

‘Very good, John.’

Suddenly he grabbed John by the back of the head and forced his cock in, John choking before his jaw adjusted to let Mycroft in. He moaned loudly as Mycroft thrust in and out in short, swift movements, allowing the doctor to get used to the invasion.

His shaft was hot and heavy in John’s mouth, come leaking down the back of his throat. John lifted his hands and secured them to Mycroft’s trousered hips, fingers digging in and drawing Mycroft closer.

Mycroft watched John as he fucked his mouth, both hands now on either side of John’s head. He held on tightly as he upped his movements, his cock pushing into the back of John’s throat and cutting off his air supply.

John breathed through his nose, sucking in air every time Mycroft drew out. Mycroft continued to fuck his mouth relentlessly, grunting in his efforts. John just moaned and did his best to lick at Mycroft’s cock and hollow his cheeks. He knew he could take this; he and Sherlock had spent many, many hours perfecting John’s ability to give an unbelievable blow-job. But this was Mycroft Holmes; the man wasn’t even close to coming.

Suddenly he pulled out and John whined before he was dragged to his feet. Once again Mycroft kissed him hotly, tongue swirling in John’s mouth, tasting the doctor and his own pre-come.

They broke part with a wet sucking noise, staring at each other with lust blown eyes. Mycroft smiled and pushed John onto the bed.

Slowly (painstakingly fucking slowly!), Mycroft removed his clothes until he was completely naked, standing in front of John. Of course the doctor had seen him naked before but it was completely different this time around; this time Mycroft was naked just for _him_.

Mycroft palmed his heavy cock, stroking in long, smooth motions. John gulped as he watched Mycroft masturbate.

‘What do you want, John?’ Mycroft asked again, voice husky with lust.

‘You,’ John answered immediately.

‘Is that so?’ Mycroft hummed. He grabbed John’s cock suddenly and the doctor groaned loudly as Mycroft jerked his shaft, fingers making John’s skin tingle and ache.

‘P-please,’ John found himself begging. He needed Mycroft right then and there; enough of this fucking touching bullshit!

Mycroft could read the thoughts on John’s face and he grinned. ‘Do you want to fuck me, John?’

‘Yes!’ John moaned.

‘Yes...?’

‘Yes _sir_ ,’ John corrected himself.

‘Why?’

‘B-because,’ John said. He whimpered when Mycroft withdrew his hand.

‘That’s not the right answer, John.’

‘Erm...’ John murmured, trying to think of a suitable answer.

Mycroft leaned forward suddenly and hissed in John’s ear, ‘You want to fuck me because _I_ want you to fuck me!’ John moaned. ‘Do you understand, John?’

‘Uh huh.’

Mycroft grabbed John by the back of the head, forcing the doctor to look at him. ‘What was that?’ he hissed, fingers tightening painfully in John’s hair.

‘Y-yes... s-sir,’ John managed.

‘You’re going to fuck me because that’s what _I_ want!’ Mycroft growled.

John had heard this before; had heard Mycroft scream it at Greg and Sherlock. But now it was directed at him... and Jesus fucking Christ was it hot.

‘O-okay,’ John said and swallowed, ‘sir.’

Mycroft smiled and grabbed John’s dressing gown. He made John lie down on the bed before pulling the belt of the gown free. He wrapped it around John’s wrists, tying them together before securing them to the headboard. Mycroft bound him tightly, skin already chaffing and adding a small spear of pleasure to John’s already aching body.

He stood back to marvel at his work, eyes slowly working up and down John’s shaking form. John needed Mycroft right then and there but, like his brother, Mycroft liked to take his time and get _exactly_ what he wanted.

He started with John’s cock, stroking for a few minutes and making John’s balls tighten. But he pulled back before John could climax, earning a whine from the good doctor. He smirked and scratched a hand down John’s front, the shorter man arching up and trying to get Mycroft’s nails to dig deeper into his skin.

‘Ah, ah,’ Mycroft tutted, pushing John down. ‘Do I have to restrain you even more?’

‘Yes, sir,’ John begged.

Mycroft smiled. ‘No, I don’t think I will.’ John groaned. ‘I won’t because I don’t want to,’ Mycroft said pleasantly before sliding onto the bed. Everything he did was graceful, precise, and John felt himself grow even _more_ aroused.

The elder Holmes licked a trail down the red marks on John’s torso, starting at his neck and moving right down to his belly button. Again John tried to arch up, to push into the contact, but Mycroft was sitting on his legs, pinning them to the mattress. All John could do was fight against the belt, wrists aching and burning.

‘You’re being very naughty, John,’ Mycroft tutted. ‘Honestly, why does Sherlock put up with you?’

‘I fuck his brains out,’ John said. ‘Sir.’

Mycroft chuckled. ‘I do love a smartarse sub,’ he said. ‘But I’ll break you.’

John eyed him carefully. ‘I doubt it, _sir_ ,’ he said, adding as much sarcasm as he could to the last word. Really he _wanted_ Mycroft to break him; to make John beg and do whatever the elder man wanted. But he wanted to make Mycroft work for it.

Of course Mycroft could see the truth and he laughed loudly. ‘Oh, John, John, John,’ he said and leaned down to bite at John’s skin, leaving a nice red mark across one rib. ‘I’m going to make you _beg_.’

_Please do_ , John thought as Mycroft took a nipple between his teeth, tongue swirling over the small nub.

Mycroft made a bottle of lube appear out of nowhere and slicked his right hand up before slowly working his pinkie finger into John’s arse, thrusting back and forth into the tight passage. John squirmed on the bed, Mycroft’s finger too small to do anything but annoy him.

‘M-Mycroft...’

‘Yes, John?’ Mycroft asked, looking up as he lapped at John’s other nipple. ‘Are you begging?’

John stared at him defiantly. ‘ _No, sir_.’

He chuckled. ‘How about now?’ Mycroft worked his second smallest finger into John’s arse, the doctor’s muscles now stretching to accommodate more.

‘N-no,’ John said, voice cracking as Mycroft violated him, ‘s-sir.’

‘How unfortunate,’ Mycroft said pleasantly. He withdrew his fingers but jammed his index, middle, and second smallest finger back in, John now shouting in pain and pleasure. He moved quickly, twisting to work John’s arse open.

John writhed about beneath Mycroft’s talented fingers, moaning and cussing and _almost_ begging for more. _Almost begging_ was why Mycroft was frowning. Gregory always begged when Mycroft used three fingers; always gave in and begged Mycroft to fuck him, or let him fuck the politician. Three minutes of vigorous finger-fucking couldn’t get John to beg.

Mycroft shifted to wrap his lips around John’s cock, once more taking the doctor’s shaft into his hot, wet mouth. John moaned even louder than before as Mycroft made him looser and looser, fingers twisting to find John’s prostate.

Though John pushed off the bed, trying to force his cock deeper into Mycroft’s mouth and Mycroft’s fingers deeper into his hole, the doctor _still_ wasn’t begging. He had sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, was trembling with need and lust, his eyes locked onto Mycroft’s and conveying that he needed more.

And still he wouldn’t beg.

‘My, my, aren’t you _resilient_ ,’ Mycroft said after letting John slip from his mouth, the politician leaning back on his feet. ‘Gregory breaks down when I use three fingers, Sherlock when I use my fingers _and_ my mouth on his cock. But you...’ he trailed off, staring at John with a look of respect, ‘... _you_ still haven’t begged.’

John felt a sense of triumph wash over him. So he was stronger than Greg _and_ Sherlock. John had held out longer than even the great Sherlock Holmes. John was determined to be better than any other sub Mycroft had bedded; he was determined to hold out the longest.

‘Of course if I had toys I’d have had you begging five minutes in,’ Mycroft said. ‘But with just my own body to work with... very good indeed.’

John grinned at him. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘You have my respect, John Watson,’ Mycroft smiled. ‘If you can handle _this_ , you are the most controlled man I have ever met.’ He paused. ‘Besides myself, of course.’

John could only imagine what Mycroft was able to handle. The man stopped wars on a weekly bases; he could probably withstand _any_ type of sexual stimulation.

Mycroft bent down to retake John’s cock in his mouth, sucking and nipping and twirling that talented tongue. Three of his fingers entered John’s arse again and worked him thoroughly, twisting to touch John’s prostate and make him shudder. John could handle this, he could handle all of this...

... he couldn’t handle Mycroft looking up with completely lust-blown eyes, pupils so wide the doctor couldn’t even see the bright blue colour of his irises. He couldn’t handle Mycroft moving back to fist his cock, _and_ dig his fingers into the doctor’s arse, _and_ tongue his aching hole. Mycroft’s tongue was magic, pushing into John’s arse between his fingers and John’s muscles.

The hand job and finger-fucking and look of lust and rimming... that... all of that was _too_ much.

‘Mycroft, please!’ John started pleading. ‘Please let me fuck you, please, please, _please_!’ His resolve, his resistance, had crumbled completely.

Mycroft drew back, fingers and mouth leaving the doctor. ‘Are you begging me, John?’

‘Yes.’

‘Say it.’

‘Please, Mycroft, let me fuck you!’ John shouted, voice cracked and whining. ‘I’m begging you, sir!’

Mycroft smirked, a look of triumph crossing his handsome features. ‘Excellent.’

He poured more lube onto his hands and slicked John up. The doctor groaned as Mycroft shifted, straddling his hips and grabbing his shaft.

Mycroft slid down quickly, John groaning and pushing him. ‘Oh God, thank you, sir, _thank you_!’ Mycroft’s grin widened and he started to move.

Though John was fucking Mycroft, it really felt like the elder Holmes was fucking _him_. He was in complete control of everything; of John’s hands and lips and thrusts and arousal.

John moaned loudly and Mycroft leaned forward, rolling his hips and whispering in his ear. ‘Do you know how exquisite you look beneath me?’

John could only groan.

‘How absolutely fucking beautiful you look all sweaty and panting just for me? It really is delicious.’

Jesus Christ was Mycroft’s swearing hot.

‘Talk to me, John,’ Mycroft purred. ‘Tell me how you feel.’

‘ _Oh_ ,’ John groaned as once again Mycroft rolled atop him. ‘S-so... good... s-sir.’

‘Hmm,’ Mycroft licked a trail along John’s jaw, the doctor shuddering beneath him. ‘How tight am I, John? Gregory always comments on how tight I am. Sherlock too.’

‘F-fucking tight,’ John said.

Mycroft smiled. ‘I’m coming first, John,’ he said. ‘If you can manage to make me come first I’ll let _you_ come inside me. If you don’t I will leave you for twenty minutes, all hot and bothered and tied up. You’ll have to wait.’

‘No!’

‘No?’

‘No, please,’ John begged. He couldn’t handle that. He needed to come _soon_ or he’d implode with need. ‘C-come first, I’ll make you come first. Don’t leave, please God don’t stop, sir.’

Mycroft smirked, John’s begging going straight to his cock. He tightened his muscles around John’s shaft, the doctor moaning loudly. ‘Make me come, John!’ he hissed. ‘I dare you!’

John started pushing up, bound hands straining and aching against the headboard. For the first time since starting, Mycroft moaned, head tipped back and eyes closed. He started fisting his own cock, stroking in long, swift movements as John fucked him.

‘John...’ he murmured and the doctor was glad to hear the crack in his voice. ‘Oh, John.’

‘I’m going to make you come, sir,’ John said sternly, glad when the older man moaned. ‘I’m going to fuck your brains out.’

Mycroft managed a whimper that was probably meant to be a chuckle. He looked down at John with completely lust-blown eyes, arse tightening around John’s cock.

John licked his lips slowly, deliberately, and as predicted Mycroft bent down to capture them in his own. John forced the politician’s lips open and plunged his tongue inside, licking sloppily and drowning out the curses Mycroft was now making. Mycroft may have been brilliant at taking men apart but John had his moments; he knew how to work the Holmes boys.

‘What’s the matter, sir?’ he asked. ‘Can’t come?’

Mycroft mumbled.

‘What was that?’

‘I will!’ Mycroft said fiercely, some of it lost when he whimpered a bit on the last word.

‘Can’t take my cock, is that it?’ John asked. ‘Not used to someone so big, sir?’

Mycroft growled and glared at him. ‘You’ve seen Gregory.’

John pushed up, burying his cock deeper into Mycroft’s arse and half lifting the taller man from the bed. ‘I’m thicker, sir, can you feel it? I’m too thick for your tight arse.’

Mycroft groaned louder.

‘Fuck are you tight, sir!’

The politician was just getting tighter. John snapped his hips as he pushed up, slamming into Mycroft’s prostate and nearly sending the man flying.

‘Jesus fuck, John!’

John smirked, body thrumming with the ache, the need to come. But he _would_ make Mycroft climax first; the man had demanded it and John was a sub who would follow the rules his dom put down.

‘Harder, sir?’ John asked, biting his lip as Mycroft tensed around him.

‘Yes!’ Mycroft ordered.

John started fucking Mycroft’s tight passage in earnest, lifting Mycroft off the bed with each thrust. Finally Mycroft fell forward, stomach and chest pressed against John. He took the doctor’s lips in his own, hand fisting through John’s hair and pulling painfully as he sucked back, moaning into John’s mouth.

John kept pounding him hard, Mycroft jolting on his body and swearing.

‘I...’ he began, voice barely understandable, ‘I... g-gonna... FUCK!’

With one last tug and thrust, Mycroft was coming, leaking all over his and John’s stomach. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, swearing loudly as John continued to fuck him.

Now that Mycroft had come John badly wanted his own release. ‘Let me come!’ John shouted. ‘Please, sir, let me come!’

The politician was barely more than a lump but he managed to capture John’s lips again. ‘Come, John,’ he breathed against him. ‘Come inside me.’

That was all it took for John to climax inside the elder Holmes, snapping his hips once more as he emptied himself into the taller man. He swore loudly and bit Mycroft’s lips, pleasure cascading through his body and making him shudder.

As he came down, John was aware of Mycroft rolling clear. The politician grabbed a shirt from John’s wardrobe and cleaned them both up before untying John.

The doctor winced, rubbing his bruised and chaffed wrists.

‘Are you okay?’ Mycroft asked softly, taking John’s hands. Gone was the dominating, dangerous man of the past hour. Now he was a soft, caring lover.

‘Y-yeah,’ John managed. ‘F-fine.’

Mycroft smiled and placed soft kisses to John’s wrists before climbing back into the bed.

‘Cuddling now, are we?’ John asked.

Mycroft chuckled and grabbed John’s chin, turning the doctor so they could kiss. ‘I must say, John, you are _very_ good.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yes,’ Mycroft said.

‘Why thank you, sir.’

Mycroft laughed softly. ‘You’ve held out longer than anyone else I know.’

‘What about you?’

Mycroft smirked. ‘John, please. I can handle _anything_.’

‘Hmm... might have to test that one day.’

‘Sounds like a very good plan,’ Mycroft said. They shared another kiss before settling back, bodies aching and bruised. ‘Thank you, John,’ Mycroft whispered.

‘Thank _you_ ,’ John said, kissing Mycroft’s chin. The elder Holmes hummed and closed his eyes as John wrapped an arm around him. They buried themselves under the duvet and promptly fell asleep.

 

-oOo-

 

Greg’s mobile buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, holding up a hand to silence Sherlock as he slid it open.

 

_I owe you fifty quid._

_John_

Greg laughed and Sherlock looked at him. The DI turned his phone around and the genius read the text quickly.

‘Fucking Mycroft!’ he shouted and stormed away.

Sally Donovan looked at Greg, who smiled.

‘Brothers,’ he shrugged and grinned as he sipped his coffee, sending a quick message to Mycroft.

 

**Well done.**

**G**

The reply was immediate.

 

_He is nowhere near as gorgeous as you, love, but I think repeat performances are necessary. He’s quite good at resisting me._

_M_

Greg smiled.

 

**Really?**

**G**

 

_Oh yes. He outlasted both you and Sherlock._

_M_

Greg’s eyebrows went up at that. He knew Sherlock could last longer against Mycroft’s punishing onslaught. But John could handle Mycroft’s fingers, and mouth _and_ eyes? The man was seriously strong.

 

**Wow. He really is good.**

**G**

 

_Yes, he is._

_M_

**We’ll have to try him together. Think Sherlock will go for that?**

**G**

Greg finished half his coffee before Mycroft replied.

 

_My brother says he can make John beg faster than I, or you, can. He wants us to watch to prove it. What are you doing tonight?_

_M_

Greg felt his cock stir and he downed the rest of his coffee.

**Baker Street, half-an-hour.**

**G**

Mycroft’s reply came while Greg was locking his office.

 

_The car is waiting._

_M_

Greg shook his head as he headed out, wondering just how his life had turned this strange.


	2. Seducing Doctor John Watson Part I of III

**Title: Seducing Doctor John Watson Part I of III**

**Main Pairing: Greg/John**

**Other: Mycroft/Greg, Sherlock/John**

**About: Sherlock wants to prove that he can satisfy John better than Mycroft and Greg. In order to prove this, he has to collect data. Greg goes first.**

**Warning: Mentioned Holmescest, d/s, swearing, rough sex**

**Written For: itsaroyalfizzbin on FF.Net**

 

_You bastard._

_S_

 

Mycroft smiled and rolled onto his back to text back, fingers flying over the keys.

 

**Always lovely to hear from you, brother dear.**

**M**

 

John mumbled beside Mycroft, pulling his eyes open.

‘I apologise for waking you,’ Mycroft said.

John smiled, finding Mycroft’s manners amusing after what had happened a few hours earlier.

 

_Did you at least give John a chance? Or are you wearing that turtle neck of yours?_

_S_

**Ah, you know me too well.**

**M**

 

‘How are you?’ Mycroft asked, turning to look at John.

The doctor leaned forward and pressed their lips together, Mycroft humming as they broke apart. ‘Fantastic,’ John said. ‘Seriously, Greg’s a lucky man.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘I didn’t hurt you?’

‘You did,’ John said, rubbing one of his bruised wrists. ‘But... Jesus, that was good.’

Mycroft grinned. ‘Good.’

 

_I am better than you, Mycroft. I can seduce John faster and please him far better than you ever could._

_S_

 

Mycroft smirked at his phone and John sighed.

‘You two,’ he mumbled.

That just made Mycroft’s grin widen as he texted his brother back. Of course John knew Mycroft was talking to Sherlock.

 

**Sounds like a challenge, brother.**

**M**

 

_Consider this a formal request. I challenge you, dear brother, Gregory as well. I might even let you watch._

_S_

 

**Challenge accepted.**

**M**

 

John yawned and sat up. ‘Do you two ever stop hating each other?’

‘Sometimes,’ Mycroft murmured, John looking at him.

Ah, right. Mycroft was talking about his and Sherlock’s time together. The brothers always met once a month to let out their frustrations by having sex. John absolutely got it; without each other, the Holmes brothers would no doubt go completely insane

‘Good,’ John said and kissed Mycroft again when the elder Holmes looked at him. ‘I’m glad you two have someone else who understands.’ Mycroft grinned broadly and dragged John down for another heated kiss.

They broke apart and John settled back down, yawning as he snuggled into Mycroft’s neck. The man was rather warm and John felt his eyes drift closed as Mycroft stroked a soft hand down his back.

 

{oOo}

 

Sherlock scowled as he slammed the door shut, turning to storm up the stairs and to John’s room. He wasted no time in smashing that door open and stopped to look around.

Mycroft and John were still in bed, awake because of Sherlock’s rather loud entrance. John was curled around the elder Holmes, hair ruffled from sleep and eyes droopy. Mycroft looked no better but somehow managed to look uptight and proper, even naked and thoroughly fucked.

‘Brother dear, how are you?’ Mycroft asked, smirking at the look on Sherlock’s face.

‘You... you...’ Sherlock tried before trailing off.

‘Me what?’ Mycroft asked pleasantly.

‘I hate you,’ Sherlock said.

‘And?’

Before Sherlock could retort, John sighed. ‘Boys, calm down,’ he said and pulled himself from bed. He pulled on his dressing gown but left it open, the belt beyond repair after his and Mycroft’s romp. ‘Sherlock, are you okay?’

‘No.’

John looked up at him. ‘Sherlock, you said this was okay.’ Sherlock turned away, arms folded. Slowly John approached his boyfriend and tentatively wrapped his arms around the consulting detective. ‘Honey, please don’t ignore me. Are you mad?’

Sherlock sighed and turned to look at his partner. ‘No, not really. I honestly don’t mind that you slept with Mycroft, John. I’m just annoyed that he seduced you in ten minutes.’

‘I lasted two days,’ John said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. ‘John, my brother was busy those two days. Once free he came straight here. You said hello, sat down, and you kissed him about four minutes later.’

John paused, realising Sherlock was right. ‘Damn it,’ he said.

Sherlock smirked. ‘And you thought you’d last a week.’

‘How long before you got Greg into bed?’ John asked, turning to look at Mycroft. The elder Holmes was now standing and hunting around for his clothes.

‘A week,’ Mycroft said as he pulled his underwear and trousers on. ‘Well, I took seven days because I wanted an actual relationship; I didn’t want to just have sex with him.’

‘And when you wanted sex?’ John asked.

Mycroft turned to smile at him, adjusting his expensive turtle neck. ‘Three hours.’

‘God,’ John groaned. ‘Even Greg lasted longer than me.’

‘It’s okay, John,’ Sherlock said and drew his boyfriend in for a hug.

‘Yes, not to worry,’ Mycroft said, pulling on his jacket. ‘Everybody gives in eventually, John.’

John swallowed before looking at Sherlock.

‘Five years,’ the consulting detective said. ‘It took me five years to get Mycroft into bed.’

‘Wait, Mycroft didn’t seduce you?’ John asked.

‘Not at first, no,’ Mycroft said. ‘I was understandably worried, what with Sherlock being my brother and all. But eventually we worked it all out.’

‘The first time he seduced me, I held out twelve hours,’ Sherlock mused. ‘He made me breakfast in bed, followed by lunch, and later dinner. At dinner I completely broke down.’

‘Why dinner?’ John asked.

Mycroft chuckled as Sherlock said, ‘Well, he served dinner naked. For all my brilliance I am still a man, John, and even I cannot resist my elder brother licking chocolate pudding from his fingers while sporting an erection.’

‘Chocolate and nakedness; Sherlock’s weakness,’ Mycroft said.

Sherlock went back to glaring at him. ‘I’m still angry at you!’

‘Oh, yes, I know,’ Mycroft smiled, now completely dressed and looking as dapper as usual.

‘You could have at least given John a chance!’ Sherlock said. ‘Honestly, did you _have_ to wear that turtle neck?’

Mycroft just shrugged and stepped past them. He paused and leaned down to kiss John quickly. ‘Thank you for a lovely morning.’

John swallowed and nodded as Mycroft left the room. Sherlock growled and followed his brother angrily. John stood still for a minute, body still aching a little after Mycroft’s seduction. He smiled at the memories before turning to find some clothes.

 

{oOo}

 

Greg lit a cigarette as he climbed the stairs to 221B. He’d been trying to quit but figured he was in for a long night. He knew Sherlock would be pissed off that his brother had been able to seduce John in two days.

He knocked before entering and found Sherlock curled up on the couch, chin on his knees and arms wrapped around his legs. He was glaring at Mycroft, who was sitting in John’s armchair. The doctor himself was making tea and smiled when he caught sight of Greg.

Greg’s eyes roamed up and down his boyfriend’s body as he bent to give him a kiss.

‘Gregory,’ Mycroft smiled.

‘Damn, I see why John cracked,’ Greg said, noting the turtle neck Mycroft was wearing. ‘You didn’t even give him a chance.’

Mycroft chuckled and drew Greg down so the DI was sitting snug beside him.

‘Sherlock,’ Greg nodded at the consulting detective. Sherlock growled and John tutted as he came in carrying three mugs. He handed one to Greg and Mycroft before sitting beside Sherlock.

‘Come on, Sherlock, calm down,’ John said.

‘Never,’ Sherlock said. ‘My brother is a bastard.’

Mycroft smiled as Greg said, ‘Well, you can always prove him wrong.’ He flicked cigarette ash into an empty mug on the coffee table, taking another drag.

‘How?’ John asked.

‘John, I need data,’ Sherlock said. ‘I need to know, without a doubt, that I can seduce and pleasure you better than Gregory and my brother.’

John tutted and leaned over to pick up Sherlock’s hand. ‘Don’t be stupid, Sherlock, of course you can pleasure me better then Greg and Mycroft. I love you.’

‘Oh, hear that, John doesn’t love us,’ Greg said.

John turned to see Mycroft smirking. ‘Oh dear, how ever will I sleep tonight?’

The doctor rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t be stupid. I love you all but I’m _in_ love with Sherlock.’ He turned to Sherlock. ‘You know that, right?’

Sherlock smiled. ‘Of course I know that, John. I love you too. But I... I _need_ to know.’

John sighed and gave Sherlock a quick kiss before settling back with his tea. ‘Alright, what do I have to do?’

‘Sleep with Gregory and Mycroft.’

‘Done that.’

‘I need you both to seduce John separately,’ Sherlock said to his brother and friend. ‘I want you to time how long it takes to have John begging for release. You will then relay the results to me so I can compare them. I want detailed notes on each encounter.’

‘Why don’t you just watch?’ Greg asked, dreading more paperwork. He didn’t want to have to start keeping notes on his sex life.

‘No, having me there will make the results worthless,’ Sherlock said. ‘John gets off on having me watch.’

John blushed, knowing it was true.

‘So, what do you propose, brother?’ Mycroft asked.

‘Just seduce John and count how long it takes for him to beg,’ Sherlock said. ‘Make sure you two discuss when you will do it. John will not be as keen for rough sex a day after receiving it.’

‘Very well,’ Mycroft said. ‘Gregory can seduce John sometime next week, me the week after. When you seduce your partner is up to you.’

‘Do I get a say in this?’ John asked. All three men looked at him. ‘I’m fine with it,’ he said.

Sherlock grinned and pulled John in for a kiss. ‘Thank you, love.’

John shrugged. ‘Hey, I’m getting three very hot men coming after me, I should be thanking _you_.’

Sherlock grinned and kissed him again.

 

{oOo}

 

John was in need of a good lie down as he opened the door to 221. He’d had a terrible day at work and wanted a nice cup of tea and maybe some sex. But Sherlock had texted to say he was doing something with Mycroft (John took that to mean the Holmes brothers were meeting for their monthly shag), leaving John to potter around the flat alone and possibly get himself off in the shower.

John had barely made it through the flat door before he was pushed against the wall, warm and calloused hands pulling at his jacket. John would have fought back but he recognised the cologne, the harsh breathing, the erection being pressed into his thigh.

‘Oh God,’ John groaned.

‘It starts now,’ Greg murmured, hands ripping John’s jacket aside and his fingers digging into the soft fabric of John’s plaid shirt. ‘Watson, how are you?’ Greg asked, voice steady but dripping with arousal.

‘F-fine,’ John said, pleasure shooting to his cock. He did love it when Greg called him _Watson_.

‘Is that so?’ Greg said.

God, Greg must have been taking seduction classes from Mycroft Holmes. Because the way he sniffed John’s neck, the way his breath tickled John’s skin, it was all... Jesus Christ.

‘Do you know what I want, _Watson_?’ Greg said against his ear, tongue licking at the lobe.

‘D-dunno,’ John managed.

‘I wanna fuck you on the couch!’ Greg hissed and John felt his knees wobble. ‘I’m gonna have you begging to come in five minutes. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk for a week.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ John moaned. This was how he liked it with Greg; hard and heavy and so fucking good. Sometimes John was a dom; sometimes Sherlock and Greg liked to be told what to do.

But for the most part John was theirs to play with, the good little soldier and doctor who followed orders and made sure everyone else was happy. John loved it. Nothing turned him on more than being told what to do.

‘Okay,’ John said.

Greg grabbed John by the jaw, squeezing tightly and bringing the doctor’s eyes up to his own. ‘What was that?’

‘Yes, Detective Inspector Lestrade,’ John said.

Greg grinned and John almost did too. He and Mycroft had the same kink; they liked to be in charge. They like you using their title. Well, Mycroft didn’t really have a title other than _sir_.

‘Stop thinking about Mycroft,’ Greg said and John nearly jumped. ‘This is about me, Watson,’ Greg continued and dragged the doctor over to the couch. ‘So fucking concentrate on me!’

John did, eyes darting along Greg’s body. He paused on the bulge in the DI’s pants before moving up to his face.

‘Take my clothes off, now,’ Greg ordered.

John complied, moving slowly but efficiently. He peeled Greg’s coat and jacket off, folding both and putting them on the table. He started on Greg’s shirt, the DI watching him as he worked. Finally John managed to get him completely naked, eyes locking onto the older man’s throbbing cock. His mouth watered and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his lips around Greg’s shaft.

Once again Greg grabbed John by the jaw, glaring at him. ‘Did I say you could look?’

‘No, I’m sorry, Detective Inspector,’ John said, the words going straight to his cock. God he was hard.

Greg dragged John forward, pressing his naked body to the younger man’s. ‘I should punish you for that.’ John moaned. ‘But I don’t think I will.’

‘No, please do, sir.’

Greg smirked. He ripped at John’s shirt, buttons flying as he got the material free. He treated the rest of John’s outfit the same; breaking the zipper of his fly and stretching the waistband of his underwear.

John didn’t seem to mind, instead licking his lips as he was shoved roughly back onto the couch. Greg leaned over him and captured John’s lips, crushing their mouths together and thoroughly assaulting John with his tongue.

John couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips as Greg’s large, calloused hands wrapped painfully around his biceps. Greg forced John further back into the couch, bodies pressed together and John’s lungs aching for air.

Greg pulled back and John gasped, chest heaving. Suddenly Greg had hold of John’s legs and dragged them with him as he rounded the couch, standing beside the armrest and pulling John forward.

He moved until John’s arse was in the air, resting against Greg’s crotch. John’s legs were forced aside, his chin sitting on his chest as he watched Greg lick his hand. He bit his lip, Greg slicking up his cock with saliva.

Once wet enough, he looked down at John and grinned wickedly. He gave the doctor no warning, penetrating John’s tight ring of muscles quickly and making him shout in pain. God, he was so hot and so full and fucking _hell_ was Greg thick.

Greg groaned loudly, biting his lip and hauling John closer. He kept a grip on John’s calves as he started fucking him, having to push hard to get into John’s tight passage. The doctor was so tight and nowhere near loose enough for this pounding; it had to hurt.

But pain was being confused with pleasure and John was groaning loudly, scratching a hand through his hair. The position meant John had no choice but to either lock at his cock or at Greg’s, watching where it disappeared into his body.

He reached forward to touch himself but Greg was having none of that. He slapped John’s hand aside, dropping one of his legs to do so. John wrapped it around Greg’s waist and looked up at the DI.

‘Did I say you could touch yourself?’ Greg demanded, snapping his hips to prove he was serious.

John moaned. ‘N-no, sir.’

‘No, I fucking didn’t!’ Greg shouted. John whimpered. ‘You’re gonna come without touching yourself. And you’re gonna come before me, Watson.’ He went quiet to smirk and run a finger down John’s aching cock. ‘I’m gonna fuck you when you’re completely spent.’

John moaned again. God, Greg really knew how to talk to him; he knew when John needed it rough. Sometimes the doctor was so busy being the good man; so busy being the caring doctor, the loving boyfriend, the moral compass to Sherlock’s insane personality.

But right then and there, on that couch, John was no more than a sex toy for Gregory Lestrade. He was there to take it rough and fucking well like it.

It suited John just fine. It made his head clear, made all his problems go away. He _wanted_ Greg to use him; he wanted to be fucked to within an inch of his life. Greg knew it and smiled again, snapping his hips to hit John’s prostate.

‘Fuck!’ John shouted.

‘Fuck _what_?’ Greg demanded.

John sucked in a breath before saying, ‘Fucking thank you, Detective Inspector Lestrade!’

Greg smiled, impressed John could get out his full title. He was still pumping away quickly, penetrating John deeply due to the position the doctor was in.

He wrapped his arms around John’s thighs, the younger man’s legs now hooked over his elbows. He continued his relentless pace.

‘Fucking hell,’ John groaned, ‘harder, Inspector, please.’

‘That’s _Detective_ –’ Greg grunted, rolling his hips, ‘– Inspector–’ he dug his fingers into John’s thighs, ‘– got it?’ he demanded, hitting John’s prostate.

‘Oh God, yes, s-sorry,’ John whimpered. ‘S-sorry, D-Detective... Inspector...’

Greg smiled. He always did love to see John apologising, especially like this. He could see John’s back and neck straining, his legs quivering as Greg pounded into him. His cock was flopping onto his stomach with each push and John was groaning, biting his lips and scratching at the couch. No doubt Sherlock would be annoyed at the marks he’d left.

‘I want you to come in the next five minutes, Watson,’ Greg said. ‘If you don’t I’m gonna fuck that pretty mouth of yours.’ He saw John look at him, saw the hope in his eyes that maybe, just maybe, Greg _would_ fuck his mouth. ‘If that happens I’m not letting you come,’ Greg told him. ‘I’m gonna get off and walk away, I don’t care about Sherlock’s little bet with Mycroft. Do you want that?’

‘No!’ John shouted, fear suddenly clouding his eyes. ‘No, sir, I’m sorry; please, I’ll come!’

Greg smiled and dropped John’s legs. He pushed them open as wide as they’d go and thrust in, fucking John’s now loose hole as hard as he could. He was close to coming himself but wanted to see John climax; he wanted to fuck the doctor when he was completely exhausted.

‘Beg, Watson,’ Greg demanded. ‘I want to hear you beg!’

Although John loved begging, loved being a sub, he was still a tease; still loved to push his dom as far as he could.

So rather than beg he smirked, daring Greg with his eyes. Greg scowled and upped his movements until he was slamming into John’s prostate with each push, the shorter man moaning loudly and gripping his hair.

But still he wouldn’t beg.

Suddenly Greg was slipping out and John opened his eyes. He was pushed back and Greg climbed atop him, pushing back in gently.

‘Oh, John,’ he purred very softly. ‘How I love to see you beneath me, all calm and beautiful.’

John frowned. No, he couldn’t have this; he couldn’t stand calm and loving Greg, not then. He needed it fast and hard. He needed to be fucked and pushed and taken. He needed... God damn it, he needed to be used!

‘Greg,’ he warned.

‘Mm?’ the DI murmured, placing gentle kisses along the doctor’s sweaty chest.

‘Gregory,’ John swallowed.

‘Yes?’ Greg said, looking up at him with dark, lust blown eyes. He smiled and pressed chaste kisses against John’s lips. ‘What is it, _John_?’

 _Fuck you_ , John thought as Greg drew out slowly before going back in, thrusts now caring and gentle

‘What, _John_?’

John moaned.

‘Is there something wrong, _John_?’ He rubbed his hands down John’s ribs, fingers light and delicate. ‘Is there something you want... _John_?’

He couldn’t take it anymore and kissed Greg fiercely. ‘Please, fuck me.’

Greg smirked. ‘What was that?’

‘Detective Inspector Lestrade,’ John said slowly, tensing his arse around the DI’s cock. ‘Please, please, _please_ fuck me hard. Fuck me and make me come; I want you to fuck me after I’ve climaxed.’ He swallowed down his pride and said, ‘I’m begging you.’

Greg grinned and kissed John quickly. ‘If that’s what you want, Watson.’

‘God, thank you,’ John said as Greg climbed off, once more pulling John’s legs so he was in the same position as before; lower half in the air, chin pressed to his chest. ‘Do what you want, sir, please!’

With a triumphant smile, Greg forced himself back in and fucked John Watson as hard as he goddamn could.

A few minutes later he felt John tense around him, the doctor’s breathing getting even quicker and his eyes squeezing shut. ‘Oh... D-Detective...’ John managed to mumble, mouth falling open. ‘Fuck!’

He climaxed over his stomach, pushing down onto Greg’s cock, effectively impaling himself on the DI as he came. Greg slowed his movements, only pulling out slightly as he watched John moan and stroke his pulsing cock.

Finally John was done and he slumped back onto the couch, breathing heavily, eyes flickering open and shut.

‘It ends now,’ Greg said, smiling at something to his left; John was too tired to see what. Greg gave him a minute before dragging him closer, pulling out before pushing all the way back in.

John moaned but did little else, instead opening his eyes to watch Greg. His cock was limp now, legs like jelly where they rested on Greg’s arms. He was loose and slippery, taking Greg in again and again with little movement.

‘Jesus Fuck,’ Greg groaned, ‘God, do you know how fucking good you look all limp?’

John managed a weak smile.

‘All limp and weak because of me,’ Greg said. ‘Do you like that I’m still fucking you?’

John had to swallow and lick his lips before he could answer. ‘Y-yes, sir.’

Greg hit his prostate and John groaned at the sensation. Greg swore and bent his head, focusing on approaching his own climax. He got closer and closer until he was pulling out, dropping John’s legs and rounding the couch. He held his cock out and John shifted into a sitting position, licking his lips and hungrily downing Greg’s shaft.

Greg groaned and fucked John’s mouth swiftly, reaching out to brush a hand through the doctor’s ruffled hair. ‘I thought you’d like that,’ Greg said, John humming in agreement. ‘Fuck,’ he moaned, ‘John!’

Greg came down John’s throat, the shorter man lapping it all up and sucking Greg clean. Finally Greg pulled out and sat heavily beside John, wiping at his eyes. John pushed him back until they laid beside each other, exchanging soft, slow kisses.

‘Thank you,’ John said.

Greg smiled. ‘No worries.’

‘Seriously, it’s just what I needed.’

The DI chuckled and brushed John’s hair back. ‘I know, John.’

They fell into silence until John noticed the camera on the mantel piece. ‘Er, what’s that?’

Greg smiled evilly. ‘Remember how Sherlock said he wanted to study us?’

‘Jesus Christ,’ John said but couldn’t help a laugh. ‘You filmed all that?’

‘Yeah,’ Greg nodded. When John didn’t say anything the DI asked, ‘That okay?’

John pushed him back to snog the man stupid, Greg groaning into his mouth. ‘I reckon we’ll look fucking spectacular on camera.’

Greg chuckled and drew John closer. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I reckon Sherlock will agree.’

John smiled and closed his eyes, resting his head on Greg’s chest. The DI shifted and swore suddenly. ‘What?’ John asked, running a warm hand over Greg’s chest.

‘Took me twelve minutes to make you come.’

John chuckled.


	3. Seducing Doctor John Watson Part II of III

**Title: Seducing Doctor John Watson Part II of III**

**Main Pairing: Mycroft/John**

**Other: Mycroft/Greg, Sherlock/John, Greg/John**

**About: Sherlock wants to prove that he can satisfy John better than Mycroft and Greg. In order to prove this, he has to collect data. It’s Mycroft’s turn.**

**Warning: Hints at Holmescest, teasing, a little bit of d/s**

**Written For: itsaroyalfizzbin on FF.Net**

 

Greg and John were still lying together on the couch when Sherlock got home. The consulting detective didn’t even look at them as he swept in, going straight to the fireplace. He grabbed the camera and flipped it open, pressing a few buttons. Suddenly loud grunts could be heard, and Greg yelling at John.

‘You’re not gonna watch it _now_?’ John said.

‘Why not?’ Sherlock asked, tilting his head. ‘It’s rather good.’

Greg grinned smugly as John got up. ‘Sherlock.’

‘Yes, John?’

John paused before, ‘Where’s my kiss?’

Sherlock rolled his eyes but was smiling as he walked over to peck his boyfriend on the lips. Sherlock pulled back. ‘Hmm, you taste like Gregory.’

‘Ain’t it good?’ Greg said. Sherlock scowled at him. ‘Alright, I’m going,’ the DI grumbled.

‘Greg, you don’t have to.’

‘Nah, it’s right, I’m meeting Myc later.’ He got dressed and yawned, stretching his back. ‘Fucking hell, John.’ John chuckled as Greg leaned over and kissed him quickly. ‘Seeya at the pub tomorrow?’

‘Yeah,’ John said.

‘You can go now,’ Sherlock said, eyes still on the camera. Greg just rolled his eyes, smiled at John, and left.

‘You’re rude,’ John said.

‘What? I got what I need.’ Sherlock paused to look John over, taking in every inch of naked skin. ‘So did you.’

‘He’s our mate, Sherlock.’

‘He’s our lover,’ Sherlock corrected.

‘Whatever,’ John said, ‘you can’t just kick him out after sex.’

‘I don’t,’ Sherlock said, looking up from the camera again. ‘I always let him stay. And I always stay in his flat after we have sex.’ He paused again. ‘Hmm, remind me to have sex with Lestrade after I finish proving that I’m a better lover.’

John rolled his eyes, wondering just when his life had taken this bizarre turn. Oh, right, a cup of coffee and a tour of Bart’s. Fucking Mike Stamford... John should send him a thank you card.

 

{oOo}

 

It was exactly a week later that Mycroft started his assault. Well... could you call it an assault? All the elder Holmes did was look up from his tea and smile.

John froze in the doorway, eyes locked onto Mycroft. Jesus Christ... the man was wearing _jeans_. They were skinny, black, and the shirt he was wearing was ripped and tight-fitting. His normally perfectly styled hair was messy and spiked. John guessed Mycroft had raided Greg’s side of their wardrobe because he looked more like the punk-loving DI then opera-loving politician he was.

‘Oh God,’ John groaned and dropped his shopping.

‘It begins now,’ Mycroft said pleasantly.

John just stared, unable to tear his eyes away from his boyfriend’s elder brother. Mycroft sipped his tea and licked his lips, slowly, John’s eyes following the movement.

Mycroft moved slowly, sucking a stray drop of tea from his thumb as he placed the cup on the table. He crossed his legs, giving John a good view of his crotch before hiding it from view. John swallowed and tried to get a word out, tried to say _something_. But Jesus Fucking Christ did Mycroft have the ability to make you forget how to talk.

‘Erm...’ John finally managed about a minute later as Mycroft trailed a hand down his denim-clad thigh.

Mycroft just sat silently, licking his lips and looking John up and down. John wasn’t sure what term best described the look on Mycroft’s face. ‘Undressing you with my eyes,’ didn’t seem right. Neither did, ‘eye fucking’. John settled on, ‘I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget your mother’s name’. Yep, that seemed appropriate.

Suddenly Mycroft stood and John shivered. He realised he hadn’t moved in three minutes; he’d just been standing in the doorway, staring at Mycroft. Slowly, oh so slowly, Mycroft reached up. John swallowed as Mycroft’s hand touched his chest before sliding down his entire front.

Though his shirt was in the way, John could _feel_ Mycroft’s touch, almost as though it were on his skin. His entire body tingled from the contact and he moaned very loudly (embarrassing loudly) when Mycroft’s hand stopped to cup his cock.

Mycroft smiled and leaned forward, lips millimetres from John’s. His hot breath washed over the doctor, who did little more than whimper and close his eyes. Mycroft applied pressure to the bulge in John’s trousers.

‘John,’ he said and there was so much fucking sex appeal in his voice that John knew he was done. ‘What do you want, John?’

‘You.’

‘How do you want me?’

‘Fuck me, please, Mycroft.’

Mycroft smirked. John knew he smirked. ‘Are you begging, John?’

‘Yes!’

Mycroft smiled and checked his watch. ‘Three minutes and all I had to do was touch you. Interesting.’

‘Fuck me!’ John demanded, eyes snapping open. Mycroft glared and John swallowed. ‘Sir?’

‘Very good,’ Mycroft said and leaned forward. He caught John’s lips and John groaned, hands coming up to tug Mycroft closer. The elder Holmes stole each and every breath as he tugged at John’s shirt, skilled fingers quickly undressing the shorter man.

He dragged John to the table and bent him over it, John moaning rather loudly. Mycroft got his pants down and they fell around John’s ankles, the younger man twisting to see what Mycroft was doing.

The elder Holmes had got his jeans down (but only to his thighs because they were rather tight) and he produced a small tube of lubricant. Mycroft slicked himself up and wasted no time in thrusting into John.

John groaned and pushed back, pain and pleasure assaulting his mind and fighting for dominance. Eventually pleasure won when each of Mycroft’s thrusts hit his prostate.

John now realised that Mycroft really had been holding back last time; he’d wanted to take it slowly. John was glad, really. The amount of pleasure he was now feeling... he could barely take it. Each of Mycroft’s pushes doubled the pleasure, his hands on John’s waist were biting into skin painfully, and his rugged breaths and moaning were doing John in.

‘Oh God, Mycroft,’ John groaned and once more thrust his head back. ‘Fuck!’

Mycroft chuckled from behind him and snapped his hips, hitting John’s prostate and making the doctor writhe on the table. ‘What do you want, John?’

‘I want to come, sir,’ John begged. ‘Please.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes!’

Mycroft smiled and pushed forward. John hit the table hard, stomach protesting under the sudden onslaught. It just made everything better; the thrusting, the gripping, the unbelievable amount of pleasure cascading through John’s body was...

‘FUCK!’ John shouted when Mycroft leaned to grab his cock.

 A few thrusts, a few tugs, and some muttered words in John’s ear were all it took for the doctor to come. He vaguely heard Mycroft say, ‘It ends now,’ through the pleasure, his climax making him weak in the knees.

Mycroft just forced him harder against the table, continuing to fuck John hard. John was little more than a lump, groaning and listening to Mycroft fuck him.

‘Oh,’ Mycroft groaned, throwing his head back. ‘John!’

He felt Mycroft come, cock leaking into him. John squeezed his muscles, milking the orgasm from Mycroft as long as he could.

Mycroft slipped out and fell to sit on the couch, rubbing at his eyes. John smiled and continued panting, leaning on the table for support.

‘Jesus Fuck, Mycroft,’ he managed after a minute.

Mycroft chuckled. ‘Yes, John?’

‘Jesus,’ the doctor mumbled again. ‘You’ve been here... what, five minutes?’

‘About that, yes,’ Mycroft nodded.

John groaned and stood. The door burst open and John turned quickly, fearing Mrs Hudson or maybe the police; he and Mycroft hadn’t exactly been quiet.

But it was Sherlock and John sighed in relief. ‘Hello.’

‘John,’ Sherlock smiled, looking him over.

‘The camera is atop the fireplace, brother,’ Mycroft said, wiping sweat from his eyes. Sherlock paused, eyes running up and down Mycroft. He was still dressed with just his crotch showing and Mycroft smiled. ‘See something you like?’

Sherlock cleared his throat and went to get the camera, John chuckling as he grabbed his clothes. ‘I need a shower.’

‘As much as I would love to join you, I must get out of these clothes,’ Mycroft said, standing to tuck himself back in. ‘I really do hate dressing like this.’

‘Greg would like it,’ John said, tugging on his trousers.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

‘Of course he would,’ Sherlock tutted. ‘Gregory loves punk rock, he was a punk in his younger years; seeing you like this would no doubt make him explode.’ He paused to smirk. ‘You should pay him a visit at Scotland Yard.’

Mycroft grinned. ‘I just might. John, a pleasure,’ he nodded at the doctor. ‘Sherlock, until next time.’

‘Whatever,’ Sherlock murmured, eyes on the camera.

Mycroft just smiled and left.

‘Sherlock, I’m gonna have a shower,’ John said.

‘Can I join you?’ he asked, immediately looking up.

‘Erm... I’m a bit tired,’ John tried, gesturing at his sweaty body.

Sherlock smiled. ‘I’m not, John. I’m rather... hard.’ He looked down at his crotch and John chuckled.

‘Oh, Sherlock,’ he said and took his boyfriend’s hand. ‘What am I going to do with you?’

‘Take me in the shower?’ Sherlock asked.

John smiled and dragged him to the bathroom.


	4. Seducing Doctor John Watson Part III of III

**Title: Seducing Doctor John Watson Part III of III**

**Main Pairing: Sherlock/John**

**Other: Mycroft/Greg**

**About: Sherlock wants to prove that he can satisfy John better than Mycroft and Greg. In order to prove this, he has to collect data. It’s Sherlock’s turn.**

**Warning: Mentioned Holmescest**

**Written For: itsaroyalfizzbin on FF.Net**

 

John was feeling thoroughly strung out. He’d had sex with three different people in the last three weeks. Greg was rather good at making you feel weak in the knees, Mycroft was good at making you feel weak everywhere, and Sherlock... well, Sherlock was Sherlock.

Despite a rather tiring round of sex with the elder Holmes, the younger one took John in the shower immediately after Mycroft left. What followed was two days of fucking followed by... nothing. Sherlock had barely touched John, only kissing him when the older man asked. John wondered if this was Sherlock’s way of beating Mycroft and Greg; have John so desperate that as soon as Sherlock looked at him he’d be begging.

Well, it was working. John was starting to feel horny. He’d gone years without a serious partner but since meeting Sherlock he hadn’t gone a week without sex. He had three sexual partners so usually by the weekend he’d fucked either Sherlock, Mycroft or Greg. Now, though... well, now it was six days and counting.

After a long night at work, John woke around midday feeling lethargic, hungry, and goddamn horny. He decided that after some breakfast... or lunch, he guessed, he’d hunt down his boyfriend and demand some goddamn sex!

Turns out John didn’t have to hunt... Sherlock was just there, on the couch, completely naked.

‘Fuck,’ John said.

‘It starts now,’ Sherlock said and wasted no time in stroking his already hard cock. John was vaguely aware that the camera was on the mantel but really couldn’t care less. He also didn’t care if the door was open or if he was hungry and tired.

All that mattered was Sherlock, naked Sherlock, naked Sherlock stroking his impressive prick.

‘Fucking hell, Sherlock.’

Slowly Sherlock raised his free hand and sucked back on his index finger. John was drooling by the time his boyfriend shifted on the couch, lifted his hips, and plunged his finger right into his own arse.

‘Oh... my... _God_!’ John gaped.

Sherlock looked rather pleased with himself and threw back his head to moan. He continued to stretch himself out with his fingers while his other hand twisted around his cock, spreading pre-come.

It took John a minute to snap.

‘Fuck!’ he shouted and crossed the room. He dragged Sherlock up and kissed him, pushing his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth and tasting everything. Sherlock pressed his long, thin body right up against John and the doctor moaned, feeling Sherlock’s hot and heavy cock poke his stomach. ‘Sherlock.’

‘Yes?’ Sherlock asked.

‘Fuck me.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you begging?’

John didn’t care about the bet. He didn’t care about Sherlock’s need to beat his brother and Greg. He needed to be fucked right then and there and, yes, he wasn’t above begging.

‘Yes, Sherlock. I’m begging you; please fuck me.’

Sherlock looked smug as hell as he ripped at John’s pyjamas. He got them free and they fell onto the couch together, John kicking off his pants and trying to suck the very air out of Sherlock’s lungs.

‘Oh God, Sherlock, please,’ John begged. ‘I need you right now.’

‘Suck my cock, John.’

John wasted no time in dropping to wrap his lips around Sherlock’s cock. He would have liked to draw out the process, to truly appreciate the feel of Sherlock’s long, thick cock on his tongue, but apparently this wasn’t going to be drawn out.

Sherlock dragged him up, forcing John to straddle his hips. John grabbed the couch behind his partner’s head and lifted himself up. Sherlock thrust right in and John groaned as he sank down onto Sherlock’s prick. It had been too long and the groan he let out was purely animal.

Though John was on top, Sherlock controlled everything. All John could do was hold onto the back of the couch and close his eyes as Sherlock moved beneath him, thrusting up and burying himself deeply into John again and again.

‘God, Sherlock,’ he moaned, head tipped back, thighs aching.

Sherlock had his hands around John’s waist and helped his partner stay up. But still, John’s legs finally gave out and he fell, Sherlock’s cock hitting his prostate.

‘Jesus!’ he shouted. Sherlock continued to push up, John now bouncing up and down. The doctor moaned and cussed as he was filled over and over again, Sherlock’s fingers tightening on his hips and his own soft moans mingling with John’s loud ones.

‘John,’ Sherlock grunted.

‘I love you,’ John said, bending to kiss Sherlock heatedly. He whimpered into Sherlock’s mouth, his cock sliding along Sherlock’s stomach and chest. ‘Fuck, I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ Sherlock said. ‘I love you so much, John.’

Suddenly John was being pushed aside and made to kneel. He curled his fingers around the armrest as Sherlock move behind him.

‘Sherlock?’

Long, thin fingers curled through John’s hair and yanked his head back. John yelped as Sherlock forced his cock back in, immediately slamming into him in long, hard thrusts. John moaned loudly, Sherlock’s fingers tightening in his hair.

Sherlock leaned forward as he rolled his hips, cock sliding against John’s prostate with each thrust. ‘I’m better than them, John.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Don’t you agree?’ He yanked back on John’s head again.

‘Y-yes,’ John swallowed, ‘’course.’

‘I’m better then Mycroft,’ Sherlock said and snapped his hips, ‘I’m better then Greg,’ he leaned over to hiss in John’s ear, ‘I’m _the_ best.’

‘Yes,’ John said. ‘God, yes.’

‘I love you, John,’ Sherlock moaned, hips faltering as he approached an orgasm. ‘I love you so much.’

‘Love... you... FUCK!’ John came without his cock being touched, leaking all over the couch. He moaned loudly and closed his eyes as Sherlock continued to fuck him.

‘Ends... _now_!’ Sherlock shouted, spilling into John and groaning. ‘Fuck.’

He dropped to lean against John, chest panting as he sucked in air. John felt weak and his legs shook. Sherlock pulled out slowly and made John lay down, curling himself around his boyfriend’s body.

‘I love you, John,’ Sherlock whispered.

John hummed, body more satisfied then it had in a while. ‘Love you too.’

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you.’

John shrugged, yawning and wrapping an arm around Sherlock to pull him closer. ‘S’alright,’ he said.

Sherlock smiled and leaned up to kiss John slowly before settling down and closing his eyes.

 

-oOo-

 

‘Okay,’ Sherlock said, switching the TV off and turning to the collected group

 Greg was rubbing his right hand through Mycroft’s hair and down to his back, the elder Holmes shivering slightly. John had his legs crossed, no doubt shifting so he could rub his cock. Sherlock smiled; a simple movie had them all begging for release.

‘Remember, we decided that the timer would start as soon as John made a noise,’ Sherlock reminded his brother and friend.

‘We know, Sherlock,’ Mycroft said.

‘Gregory; you first.’ Sherlock peered down at his notes before smirking. ‘I started counting from John groaning. It took you eight minutes to make him beg, a further four minutes to make him come.’

‘Not bad,’ Greg said and Sherlock snorted. ‘Hey, eight minutes is pretty good!’

‘Of course it is, Gregory,’ Mycroft soothed, leaning up to peck his partner on the lips. ‘Very good.’

‘It took Mycroft that long the first time,’ Greg reminded them all.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and said, ‘Yes, but he was taking his time then; he wanted to make it last. This time he was trying.’

Greg sighed and leaned back. ‘Fine, fine; how long did it take Mycroft?’

Sherlock smiled and looked back down at his notepad. ‘Five minutes.’

‘No way,’ Greg gaped. Though he’d just watched it, it had seemed... longer.

‘Yes,’ Sherlock nodded. ‘Three minutes to have John begging, a further two minutes to have him coming.

‘That’s... no,’ Greg shook his head.

Sherlock smiled up at him. ‘The camera has a clock, Gregory; would you like to review it?’

Greg groaned. ‘No, no; I believe you.’

‘I find it a little hard to believe too,’ John said, smiling at Greg. ‘I mean, all he had to do was touch me. And Sherlock...’ he trailed off.

‘Come now, Sherlock, don’t keep us in suspense,’ Mycroft said. ‘How long did it take you?’

Sherlock was grinning now, leaving little doubt that he had won. ‘Three minutes; one minute to have John begging and he was coming in a further two.’

‘Of course,’ Mycroft said and stood. ‘We all knew this would happen. Sherlock, congratulations. John, thank you for the time and for the...’ he glanced at the TV before smiling, ‘... display.’ John chuckled. ‘Gregory and I must be going now.’

‘Why?’ Sherlock questioned.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. ‘Sherlock, we have just spent the past half-an-hour watching a rather exciting porn video. Why do you think my partner and I must leave?’

A grin spread across Sherlock’s face. ‘Feeling inadequate, Mycroft?’

‘Yes, that’s it,’ Mycroft tutted. ‘It couldn’t be because I’m horny.’

John snorted. He never thought he’d hear the word _horny_ come out of Mycroft Holmes’ mouth.

‘Gregory?’ Mycroft said, turning to look at his boyfriend.

‘Coming,’ Greg said quickly and stood. ‘I’ll be saying that a lot later,’ he whispered to John as he grabbed his coat. John giggled and waved as Mycroft and Greg left.

‘I’ll send you a copy!’ Sherlock shouted after them before grinning at John.

‘So,’ John said, letting Sherlock snuggle into him on the couch. ‘Three minutes?’

‘Yes,’ Sherlock grinned. ‘Two minutes better than Mycroft.’

John nodded along. ‘Not that I’m not happy that you won, Sherlock, but I think I can last longer.’

Sherlock turned to look at him. ‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ John said. ‘I think I can last _hours_.’

The look on his face made Sherlock swallow and he stood slowly. ‘Coming, John?’ he asked, holding out his hand.

‘Not yet but definitely later,’ John said.

Sherlock chuckled and dragged his boyfriend up, kissing him the entire way to the bedroom.


	5. Punk Is The Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happens between parts II and III of 'Seducing Doctor John Watson'.

**Title: Punk Is The Word**

**Main Pairing: Mycroft/Greg**

**Other: Mycroft/John**

**About: Sherlock suggested Greg would be very happy to see Mycroft dressed as a punk so Mycroft pays a visit to Greg at Scotland Yard.**

**Warning: Public sex, oral sex, rimming, light slapping**

**Written For: Chasingriver (because she wrote a Mystrade punk chapter and suddenly I wanted to do one too. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!)**

 

{o}

 

Though Mycroft was feeling thoroughly satisfied after his quick round of sex with John, he couldn’t deny that his cock was already twitching at the thought of being with Greg. While sex with John was good, and sex with Sherlock was necessary to stop himself collapsing under the strain of being a genius, sex with Greg was... it was love, pure and simple.

Yes, Mycroft loved Sherlock, and he loved John too, but he was _in love_ with Greg; Gregory Lestrade, his partner, the man he had been living with for the better part of a year. Mycroft often wondered how their sex life would change if they got married and had kids; Mycroft couldn’t exactly have sex with John Watson when he had a husband and children at home.

But maybe... maybe he could. After all, most marriages ended because the sex got boring. If Mycroft, and Greg, were allowed to sleep with Sherlock and John, sex would never be dull; they’d always be experiencing something different and coming back to each other.

Mycroft decided to talk about it with Greg if they ever got married. For now, though, he pushed it into one of the many vaults in his mind as he stepped out of the car at Scotland Yard.

He got a few looks, mostly because cops had it beaten into them to take note of anyone strange looking, and Mycroft Holmes definitely looked strange. He was a forty-seven year-old man wearing tight black jeans and a ripped shirt. But he ignored it all in favour of finding his love.

Greg was hunched over his desk, scribbling furiously and looking worn out. Mycroft hadn’t seen him in a week and could tell Greg needed something to relax... well surely fucking Mycroft Holmes would be relaxing.

Mycroft leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms. ‘Good evening, love.’

Greg looked up and his mouth immediately fell open. ‘Oh my fucking God.’

Mycroft smirked. ‘Yes, I thought you’d like this clothing.’ Greg just stared, mouth trying to work around words that his brain wouldn’t supply. Mycroft stepped into the office and shut the door behind him. ‘Do I look nice?’ he asked.

He turned to see Greg nodding.

‘I dressed like this to seduce John,’ Mycroft said, ‘but I rather prefer the look on your face.’

‘Uh... uh huh,’ Greg finally managed to mumble, dark brown eyes sweeping up and down his boyfriend’s body. Mycroft stretched, the jeans tightening around his crotch and shirt hiking up to reveal pale skin. ‘Oh my God.’

‘Yes, you’ve said that,’ Mycroft smirked.

‘I... Jesus,’ Greg said, practically drooling now, paperwork forgotten.

‘You look tired, love,’ Mycroft said and leaned over the desk. Greg caught a whiff of his aftershave and God even _that_ smelled punk. ‘Do you need to relax?’

‘Nothing about my body is relaxed right now,’ Greg managed.

Mycroft slowly rolled his eyes down Greg’s body. The DI’s trousers were looking tight and he smirked. ‘I think we should go out, love.’

‘B-but... work...’ Greg mumbled, eyes never leaving Mycroft’s chest.

‘I remember you mentioning a club you wanted to go to,’ Mycroft said softly. ‘One that doesn’t look too kindly on gay couples.’

Greg swallowed. There was a club he’d been to when he was young; one that had many homophobic party-goers. Greg had gotten into a few fights in his time smashing people who dared utter anything about his duel-sexuality. He’d always wanted to go back and fuck some guy stupid in the toilets just to shove his gayness right in their faces... well, bi-ness, same difference.

‘Could be dangerous,’ he finally managed to say and looked up at Mycroft.

‘Danger is my middle name,’ the politician said.

Greg chuckled. ‘I thought it was Edwin?’

Mycroft rolled his eyes. ‘Gregory, please?’

‘You want to go to a club?’

‘Yes.’

‘And have me fuck you in said club?’

‘Yes, yes I do.’

‘But... Myc, they hurt gay people and you’re... well, you’re pretty gay.’

Mycroft smirked. ‘I am aware of my level of queer, Gregory, but right now I need you. And the danger of getting caught, especially in an establishment like that, well... my jeans are feeling a lot tighter than an hour ago.’

Greg swallowed slowly. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘M’kay.’ He was already out of his chair, stuffing files away and grabbing his coat. He grabbed Mycroft’s hand and dragged his boyfriend from the office before locking it.

Greg couldn’t help himself; he pushed Mycroft against the wall once they entered the elevator and sucked the politician’s tongue into his mouth, Mycroft moaning and arching his body into the DI’s. Greg only pulled back when he heard a whistle and turned to see half the Yard watching him, Sally Donovan and Dimmock among them.

‘This ain’t a peep show!’ he shouted.

Sally whistled again and giggled when the elevator doors slid shut. Mycroft chuckled and drew Greg closer.

‘Calm down, love.’

‘Never.’

Mycroft smiled and kissed him again.

 

{oOo}

 

They swung by the flat so Greg could get changed. He rejoined Mycroft in the car looking every bit the punk he used to be; ripped black jeans, band shirt, grey hair now spiked up with product. His neck was adorned with thick leather straps, chunky bracelets on his wrists.

Mycroft threw himself at Greg, hauling him in to plunder his mouth and rut against him. Greg moaned into him as they were driven to the club.

The only way they were going to get in was with a hot chick. Cue Anthea, dressed in a tight shirt that showed off her cleavage and a skirt that flared to give you a good view of her thighs.

‘Maybe we should ask her to join us,’ Greg muttered in Mycroft’s ear as they were led in.

Mycroft smiled. ‘Gregory, the only way to completely turn me off is to suggest we ask a woman to join us.’

Greg sighed. ‘Sometimes I wish you weren’t completely gay.’ He paused to look him over. ‘Are you sure it’s not ninety-ten? Maybe you’re ten percent straight.’

Mycroft rolled his eyes and said, ‘No. If you want to have sex with a woman ask John to join you.’

Greg froze, forcing Mycroft to walk back. ‘I... are you suggesting I seduce your assistant with John?’

Mycroft shrugged. ‘Do what you want, I don’t care. As long as you come home with me.’

Greg thought about that as he followed Mycroft to the bar. They ordered a few drinks and chatted, Anthea disappearing to do... whatever it was she did. Greg had to fend off five women within ten minutes and even Mycroft had four looking his way.

Finally Greg downed his bourbon and leaned forward. ‘Bathroom?’ he whispered into Mycroft’s ear before giving the lobe a lick.

Mycroft swallowed the remainder of his drink and nodded. He followed Greg to the bathrooms, where they found the room empty. The walls were bright yellow and covered in spray-paint and permanent marker. Lewd tags had been left all over the brick walls and Greg read a few as Mycroft pushed into him from behind, cock pressing into his arse.

Greg chuckled. ‘Look at that one.’

Mycroft read it aloud over Greg’s shoulder, ‘‘Poofters go home’. Marvellous.’

‘Should we go home?’ Greg asked as Mycroft kissed his neck.

‘Mm, don’t think so,’ he mumbled. ‘I think you should fuck me against the wall.’

‘This wall?’ Greg asked. ‘But it’s so lovely.’

Mycroft chuckled.

‘Oh, look at that one.’

Mycroft did, eyebrows coming together. ‘‘Lick my ass?’ How awful.’

‘You like it,’ Greg said, turning to look at Mycroft properly.

‘No, it’s not that, they spelt arse wrong,’ Mycroft said. ‘In Britain, and Australia, it’s A-R-S-E not A-S-S. Honestly.’

Greg rolled his eyes and dropped his hands to squeeze Mycroft’s arse through the tight denim. ‘Is now really the time to yell at a wall over its spelling skills?’

‘If people are going to write profanity on a wall they should at least use the proper spelling,’ Mycroft complained.

‘Really, correct spelling isn’t want young people care about when they tag a wall.’

‘Well they should.’

Greg just rolled his eyes and dragged Mycroft into the closest cubical. He slammed the door and looked it before turning to suck at Mycroft’s neck, making sure not to leave any marks. Mycroft moaned softly, thrusting his crotch into Greg’s and twisting his fingers through the DI’s hair.

‘You look so fuckable dressed like this, Myc,’ Greg whispered into his ear.

‘Uh huh,’ was all Mycroft managed before catching Greg’s lips in a searing kiss. He licked his way into Greg’s mouth before the DI was forcing him back, the politician hitting the wall with a low _thud_. ‘What?’

‘No, no, no,’ Greg tutted and shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’ Mycroft just raised an eyebrow, confused. ‘You dressed like this for dear Johnny,’ Greg said, licking his lips as he looked Mycroft up and down. ‘I don’t care that you fucked him earlier but really, Mycroft, did you think I’d let you take control after that?’

Mycroft felt his heart pump painfully fast as he realised what Greg was saying.

‘No...’ Greg said slowly, shaking his head. He rested his hands on Mycroft’s shoulders and squeezed. ‘I’m in charge tonight, Myc. Is that okay with you? If not, say so now.’

Mycroft loved being a dom and it was rare that he subbed for anyone, Gregory included. He did on rare occasions when he needed to be taken down a peg or two or when work became too much. Sometimes even the British Government needed to be told what to do.

But Greg understood that it was hard for Mycroft to relinquish control. It was hard for him to let someone else be in charge, even in the bedroom... or toilet cubical, whatever.

‘Tell me now, Myc,’ Greg said, eyes suddenly soft. ‘I don’t have to be in charge here. If you want me to I will.’

Slowly Mycroft swallowed before nodding. ‘Just... not too much, please?’

Greg nodded and leaned up to kiss him. ‘Thank you, Myc.’

‘For what?’

‘For letting me in; for letting me do this,’ Greg said.

‘I trust you,’ Mycroft said softly.

Greg smiled and leaned up to kiss his partner. He knew Mycroft didn’t do this with anyone else; not even with Sherlock. No, he only gave up control for Greg.

Greg’s hands tightened on Mycroft’s shoulders and he said, ‘Down.’ It was more an order than anything else and Mycroft dropped to his knees quickly. He looked up as Greg slowly unbuckled his studded leather belt. He unzipped and pushed his crotch forward, trapped cock rubbing against Mycroft’s lips.

Mycroft moaned softly, knowing that they were doing this in public going straight to his cock. And they were in an establishment that frowned (violently) on homosexuality. God, Greg had twisted Mycroft real good; the politician never would have thought about doing this in the past. But with Greg... he’d do anything for Gregory.

Greg continued to thrust softly, underwear soon wet with pre-come and Mycroft’s saliva. Mycroft licked a strip along the cotton, taking a deep breath, lungs filling with Greg’s general musk as well as his aftershave.

‘Gregory...’ he whimpered, ‘...please.’

‘Please what?’

Mycroft swallowed. ‘Detective Inspector Lestrade,’ he said softly, ‘please let me suck your cock.’

Greg smiled. ‘Since you asked so nicely...’ he trailed off and pulled his cock out, wiggling so his jeans fell to sit under his arse. He grabbed the back of Mycroft’s head and thrust in.

Mycroft was used to this and greedily sucked Greg’s cock in. Greg stifled a loud groan by biting his lip, tipping his head back and thrusting softly.

Mycroft was... God, that man knew how to suck cock. His tongue swirled around Greg’s head, his teeth scraping and lips pressing around his length. He hollowed his cheeks as he sucked in, Greg going weak in the knees and having to lean against the cubical wall.

Suddenly the main door of the bathroom banged open and Greg turned. Mycroft didn’t stop, though; he kept his mouth firmly around Greg’s cock, left hand wrapped around the base, right hand stroking Greg’s hip.

Greg sucked both lips into his mouth in an effort to keep silent as he heard two men joking with each other. They were using the urinals and hopefully, _hopefully_ , wouldn’t feel the need to look under the door. If they thought someone was getting sucked off by some woman they’d look over the top and Greg didn’t need that; he and Mycroft would be beaten to within an inch of their lives, maybe further.

Finally the door banged again and there was silence. Greg let out a shuddering breath and Mycroft smirked around him.

Greg dragged the politician up for a bruising kiss, lips crashing together and tongues twirling around.

‘What do you want, sir?’ Mycroft asked breathlessly.

‘You, bent over this toilet, now!’ Greg hissed.

Mycroft did and shuddered as Greg tore at his belt and fly. He got Mycroft’s jeans and underwear down and smiled at the arse he saw. God, Mycroft had _the_ best arse Greg had ever seen. He rubbed it softly before giving Mycroft a playful slap, the politician jolting before wiggling his hips.

‘Did you like that?’ Greg asked.

‘Maybe,’ Mycroft said softly. Greg slapped him again, slightly harder. ‘Oh God, yes.’ Greg gave him a few more slaps until both of Mycroft’s cheeks were pink. He bent to lick at the tender skin, Mycroft moaning.

‘Quiet!’ Greg hissed.

Mycroft mumbled an apology and bit his lip as Greg’s tongue got closer and closer to his entrance. Suddenly Greg’s hands had spread his cheeks and Mycroft stifled another moan as his partner tongued his hole.

‘Jesus, Greg,’ he moaned.

‘I’m not gonna warn you again so shut your mouth,’ Greg said, licking a strip down Mycroft’s exposed crack.

‘S-sorry, s-sir,’ Mycroft managed to whisper, eyes shut as Greg licked him. He nearly shouted again when Greg’s tongue darted into his hole, barely managing to clamp his mouth shut. He squeezed the back of the toilet, the porcelain cold and disgustingly dirty beneath his manicured nails. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the dirt, though, not when Greg pushed his entire tongue into Mycroft’s tight hole.

Greg thrust his tongue in and out long and slow, Mycroft quivering beneath him. Greg kept his cheeks spread, nails digging into his boyfriend’s pale arse.

‘Oh, Greg,’ Mycroft whispered, eyes squeezed shut, teeth denting his bottom lip.

‘Like that, do you?’ Greg asked, pulling back to lick around Mycroft’s hole.

‘God, yes,’ Mycroft nodded.

‘I’ll stop if you call me Greg again.’

‘Sorry, Detective Inspector,’ Mycroft corrected himself.

Greg grinned and drove his tongue back in, Mycroft moaning and pushing himself back. He was effectively fucking himself on Greg’s tongue but neither man was complaining. Greg continued for a good minute, Mycroft tasting bitter and hot and so goddamn good in his mouth. Finally he couldn’t handle it anymore and pulled back.

‘What?’ Mycroft blinked.

Greg pulled a condom from his back pocket and ripped it open, Mycroft shifting to see what he was doing.

‘Since when do we use condoms?’ he asked.

‘Mycroft, I am _not_ staining these jeans,’ Greg said. ‘I wanna see you in them more often.’

Mycroft smirked and said, ‘Carry on, then.’

Greg managed to pull out the small bottle of lube he’d bought and poured some onto his fingers. He shoved two into Mycroft’s arse, making sure he was good and loose for Greg’s cock. Mycroft moaned and pushed back, nearly shouting when Greg withdrew his fingers.

‘I said be quiet!’ Greg hissed.

‘Sorr– Jesus _fuck_!’ Mycroft’s apology was cut off by a shout when Greg drove into him, buried to the hilt in a second.

‘Mycroft!’ Greg hissed.

‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ Mycroft mumbled, pushing back in an aim to get Greg deeper. ‘Please move, please.’

Greg did, looking down to watch his cock disappear into Mycroft’s body. ‘God,’ he moaned softly, rubbing his hands down Mycroft’s arse. He’d never tire of feeling the soft flesh in his fingers or hearing Mycroft swear over and over again because of what Greg was doing. He never thought he’d be lucky enough to have Mycroft Holmes, let alone fuck the man in a club toilet.

Mycroft was just getting tighter, purposely squeezing his muscles around Greg’s shaft as the older man pushed in and pulled out. He moaned softly, Mycroft muttering under his breath whenever he did.

‘God, Greg,’ Mycroft moaned loudly.

‘Mycroft!’ Greg hissed.

‘I’m sorry but _fuck_ ,’ Mycroft groaned.

‘Seriously, I’m warning you,’ Greg said. Mycroft was getting too loud; if anyone heard them...

Greg’s cock slid against his prostate, causing Mycroft to jump and swear loudly.

‘You were warned!’ Greg hissed before pulling out. Mycroft whimpered loudly as Greg turned him and made him sit on the toilet. Mycroft didn’t think there was a worse punishment then watching his boyfriend beat himself off while Mycroft himself ached for a good pounding.

‘Gregory, please.’

‘No.’

‘Detective Inspector?’

‘Nope,’ Greg said and moaned as he squeezed at his condom-clad shaft.

‘Detective Inspector Lestrade, please fuck me, I’m sorry,’ Mycroft tried again.

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘Gregory,’ Mycroft moaned, ‘please!’

‘No, Mycroft.’

Mycroft was at a loss as to what to do. His whole body was aching, _needing_ to be fucked by Greg’s thick cock. He needed it so bad his teeth hurt.

‘I’ll do anything,’ Mycroft said.

That got Greg’s attention and he opened his eyes, let his cock drop. ‘Oh?’

‘Yes,’ Mycroft nodded.

‘Anything?’

Mycroft bit his lip, the need to be fucked outweighing his pride. ‘Yes.’

Greg smiled broadly. ‘Right, okay. Next time we have sex, we’re using some type of food.’

Mycroft’s face dropped. ‘Gregory, no.’

‘Something fattening.’

‘No.’

‘Like cake.’

‘No!’

Greg smiled. ‘You said anything, Mycroft.’

‘I... no, I can’t do that,’ Mycroft said and swallowed. ‘Gregory, please... I-I can’t...’

Greg leaned down to kiss his partner softly. ‘Myc, I know how hard you work to make sure you don’t gain weight. But I love you the way you are and I’d love you even if you gained twenty pounds. Just... let go with me, yeah?’

Mycroft gulped again and looked away.

‘You want me to fuck you, don’t you?’ Greg whispered, moving closer so his cock was millimetres from Mycroft’s face. ‘Don’t you want that?’

Mycroft moaned softly.

‘Then say yes to my request, Myc. Say yes and I promise to make this one of the best fucks of your life. I’ll make sure you don’t overeat.’

Mycroft looked up at him. ‘Promise?’

‘Of course.’

Finally Mycroft took a deep breath and nodded. ‘Okay.’

Greg grinned and pulled Mycroft up for another jaw-cracking snog. ‘Thank you, Myc,’ he whispered.

‘Not a problem.’

Greg smiled and turned his boyfriend, once again bending him over the toilet. He pushed in and Mycroft managed to keep his moan to himself. Greg started pounding into him hard, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the bathroom. The occasional grunt was heard, especially when Greg grabbed Mycroft’s cock and stroked in jerky movements, unable to grab him properly.

Mycroft let out a loud breath before biting his lip. Greg rubbed his arse with one hand before giving Mycroft a slap, the taller man jumping before pushing back. Both Mycroft’s hands were on top of the toilet and he rutted back against Greg, pushing the DI’s cock into himself deeply with each thrust.

‘Fuck, Myc,’ Greg managed to growl, slapping Mycroft again. Mycroft just grunted.

The bathroom door opened and both men clamped up but Greg didn’t stop thrusting, instead pushing into Mycroft swiftly and strongly. Mycroft bit his lip hard to stop from shouting and had to put a hand over his mouth when Greg squeezed his cock.

Greg grinned, snapping his hips to hit Mycroft’s prostate. A garble was all he heard, Mycroft bending his head and closing his eyes as Greg continued to fuck him.

‘Hit that fucker right in the head,’ someone said, his mate jeering. ‘Did ya see the faggot?’

‘Didn’t know what hit him,’ another guy laughed.

Greg hit Mycroft’s prostate again, wondering just how the men would feel if they found out two guys were fucking in the stall a metre away.

‘Fucking poofters, should all be set on fire,’ a third man grunted.

Greg gripped Mycroft’s hip tightly, hoping his boyfriend wouldn’t start shouting or crying. Mycroft was rather sensitive about his sexuality and tended to react in loud ways and with fists or tears. Mycroft just shuddered beneath him, eyes still closed.

‘Come on, see if I can hit him again,’ the first guy said. The door banged again and there was silence.

Greg dragged Mycroft up. ‘You okay?’ he whispered.

‘Yes,’ Mycroft nodded and swallowed. Greg pushed him against the wall, Mycroft gasping.

‘I’m gonna fuck you hard,’ his boyfriend hissed, Mycroft moaning. ‘Would you like that?’

Mycroft smiled. ‘Yes, Detective Inspector.’

‘Don’t you ever let anyone make you believe that what we do is wrong,’ Greg told him firmly. ‘Fuckers like that don’t matter, got it?’

‘Yes.’

‘I love you, Mycroft,’ Greg whispered and kissed him softly, Mycroft having to twist to get at his lips. ‘I’m gonna fucking have those guys arrested for something.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘Fine by me, Gregory. But please, please do fuck me first.’

‘What happened to calling me, ‘Detective Inspector’?’ Greg asked.

‘Maybe I will if you fuck me,’ Mycroft teased.

Greg chuckled. ‘You smartarse.’

Greg thrust in swiftly, going back to the pace they had before. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he was coming; Mycroft’s tightness, the soft moans he was giving, and the flesh beneath the DI’s hands was too much (added with Mycroft dressed as a punk and the fact that they were fucking in public... well, Greg should be given a medal for holding out this long!)

He chuckled at the thought and Mycroft looked at him from the corner of his eye. But he was too hot, too filled, to give it much thought and went back to leaning against the wall and stroking his cock.

It was Mycroft who came first, pushing back suddenly and climaxing all over the wall and his fist. He couldn’t stop the torrent of foul words that came out of his mouth, all rather loud and with _Greg_ at the end. Greg just groaned and thrust in harder, Mycroft suddenly so much tighter than before.

Mycroft tried to bend himself so Greg could fuck him more but the DI wasn’t having that. He slammed Mycroft into the wall, not caring if he got come or dirt on his shirt. He jammed himself into Mycroft over and over again, his front slamming into Mycroft’s back with each thrust. He grabbed Mycroft’s hands and lifted them over the politician’s head, securing them to the wall.

Mycroft twisted his head and Greg wasted no time in locking their lips, drawing slopping kisses from his boyfriend as Mycroft panted into his mouth. Mycroft was little more than a lump, only standing because Greg was holding him up. He continued to kiss his boyfriend, tongue and lips lazy, eyes closed.

The feel of Mycroft pressed against him, and the kisses, where they were, the heat, everything... Greg came with a loud curse, snapping his hips and stilling as he emptied himself into Mycroft. Mycroft flexed his muscles, milking the climax from Greg as long as he could.

With heavy breathing and on slightly shaky legs, Greg managed to pull out. He peeled the condom off and dropped it on the floor, not caring about health and safety right then. He grabbed some toilet paper and Mycroft helped him clean up, wiping them both down before the two men zipped themselves back up.

Greg and Mycroft turned to inspect the wall, the latter laughing.

‘Oh my God,’ he managed between giggles.

‘Gonna stay there all night,’ Greg told him. He paused to listen and, after making sure they were alone, they exited the cubicle to wash up.

Afterwards Greg pulled Mycroft in for a kiss. ‘I love you, got it?’

‘Yes, Gregory,’ Mycroft smiled and kissed him back. ‘I get it.’

The door behind them banged open and they managed to break apart before anyone rounded the corner. It was just two young guys, no older than eighteen. If Greg had been on duty he would have demanded their ID’s but he was there to have fun with Mycroft so he just smiled and led his boyfriend back into the club.

They made their way to the bar and ordered some drinks, Greg downed his bourbon in one go. Mycroft copied and they both grinned, ordering another round.

‘Fucking fag!’ someone shouted loud enough to be heard over the thumping music.

Greg recognised the voice and slammed his drink onto the bar, getting ready to jump forward and smack the guy as hard as he could. Before he could move, however, the guy had dropped like a sack of spuds, his two mates going down too. Greg blinked and looked up through the gloom.

Anthea stepped over the men as people crowded around, people wondering just who had attacked the three men. Greg grinned as Anthea joined him and Mycroft. She was still looking beautiful, her skin glowing beneath the colourful lighting. But now her face was a pure smirk and she grinned up at the two men.

‘Sirs,’ she said with a smile.

‘Anthea, you’re brilliant,’ Greg said.

‘I do try my hardest,’ the PA grinned.

‘I think your pay just went up,’ Mycroft said and ordered another round of drinks. He handed one to Anthea, the brunette rising hers to clink the three drinks together.

‘Why thank you, Mr Holmes.’

Mycroft chuckled and they all sipped their drinks. Greg moved closer, nudging Mycroft with his hip. Mycroft leaned back on the bar to rest his arm across the edge, Greg leaning into it.

‘Thank you,’ he whispered.

‘No worries,’ Greg smiled. ‘I can’t wait till I get to fuck you with some food in the bedroom,’ he said, Mycroft raising an eyebrow. ‘I’m thinking something to do with icing.’

Mycroft just chuckled.


	6. Mycroft’s Always In Charge

**Title: Mycroft’s Always In Charge**

**Main Pairing: Mycroft/Greg/John**

**Other: Mycroft/Greg**

**About: Greg, John and Mycroft have some fun in Mycroft’s office.**

**Warning: small d/s, threesome**

 

John really didn’t know how he’d got into this situation. No, wait, he did; Sherlock had told him to go get some files from Mycroft. And Greg was there, under the table, and Mycroft was still dressed.... right, right, that’s how it had happened. And now he was snogging the absolute shite out of Gregory Lestrade.

Right, ’course, because catching your mate giving his boyfriend a blowjob means you should then kiss the bloke. ’Course, why not?

Mycroft smiled and watched two of the men he loved kiss, their moans making him bite his lip. Greg and John didn’t break apart until they needed air and stood gasping, staring at each other. Suddenly they were being pushed to the leather couch in the corner and fell to sit. Mycroft stood before them, arms crossed.

‘Go on,’ he said.

Needing no further encouragement, John pulled Greg closer and kissed him again. Their lips were warm and wet against each other, John pushing his tongue in. Dear God, had Greg always tasted that good? Or was it just the fact that they were in Mycroft’s office, no doubt the very centre of the British Empire?

John wasn’t without his appeal either. His shoulders were warm and strong beneath Greg’s fingers. He pulled back to drag John’s jumper over his head before he started on the buttons of his shirt, ripping them free in his haste.

John was suddenly shirtless and Greg looked down at him, arousal flooding his system as his eyes lingered on the bullet-wound in John’s left shoulder.

The doctor wasn’t going to let Greg have all the fun. He pushed the DI’s coat and jacket free, pulling at the buttons of his white shirt. Mycroft had grabbed a chair and fell into it heavily, crossing his legs and clasping his fingers together as he watched them.

Greg’s shirt fell free and John attacked his neck, sucking back on the skin and rubbing his fingers all over Greg’s warm, toned chest.

‘God... John,’ Greg gasped, closing his eyes and pulling at John’s hair.

Mycroft smiled as Greg pulled John back up, their kisses now sloppy and messy. ‘I think you should both take your pants off.’

They broke apart. ‘What?’ Greg asked.

‘You heard me,’ Mycroft said pleasantly. His pupils were dilated, his pulse quick. He looked them both over carefully. ‘Take your pants off.’

‘H-here?’ John asked, aware that his hands were still on Greg’s chest.

‘Yes,’ Mycroft said, ‘I don’t see why not.’

Greg and John looked at each other. They couldn’t... was Mycroft serious? Surly his office was bugged, with cameras... duh, that was probably part of the fun for Mycroft.

‘Fuck it,’ Greg said and stood. He’d been looking forward to a quickie with Mycroft but this... this seemed so much better. He pulled at his belt and kicked off his shoes and socks, Mycroft’s eyes following him the entire time. Suddenly he was just in his boxers and John leaned forward to pull them down.

Greg’s cock flopped out and John groaned. He wasted no time in taking the DI in his mouth, his senses suddenly assaulted by Greg’s taste.

‘Jesus,’ Greg moaned, head falling back as John sucked his cock. Mycroft stood and leaned against Greg, kissing his neck softly. ‘Oh... God...’ Greg wasn’t sure how long he’d last with John trailing his tongue so skilfully over his cock. And Mycroft was licking at his neck, breathing against him. ‘John... I’m going to...’

Mycroft knew Greg was close and moved to John, pulling the doctor up and away from Greg. He kissed him softly and said, ‘Your turn.’ Mycroft looked at Greg expectantly and Greg smiled.

He pulled at John’s jeans as the doctor got rid of his shoes and socks. They both stepped from their underwear and Greg knelt to take John in his mouth.

‘Oh,’ John gasped as Greg bobbed up and down, his shaft hot and hard in Greg’s mouth. ‘Oh,’ he repeated and Mycroft smiled.

Just like with Greg, Mycroft kissed at John’s neck, doubling the arousal the doctor was feeling. He started thrusting softly, burying his cock deeper into Greg’s mouth. Suddenly cold air assault him and John opened his eyes to see Greg standing before him.

‘Please,’ the DI gasped, dragging him closer. ‘Fuck me.’

‘What?’

Mycroft smirked as Greg asked again, ‘John, fuck me, now.’

‘Now?’ John said.

‘I think that’s what he means,’ Mycroft said pleasantly. He went to his desk, leaving the two men panting and staring at each other. He returned with a condom box and bottle of lube. Mycroft ripped a condom open and rolled it onto John’s erection, Greg watching carefully. He squirted lube onto his fingers and stroked John’s cock slowly, the doctor moaning.

‘Gregory doesn’t like being prepared,’ Mycroft said, looking up at John. ‘He likes to be fucked hard straight away.’

John swallowed and his eyes locked on Greg. Of course he’d had sex with Greg before but with Mycroft dictating... it was so much hotter. Both men were so aroused, so fucking hot, that they feared they’d burst right there. Mycroft just smirked.

‘On your back, Gregory,’ Mycroft said and Greg found himself obeying. He fell onto the couch and put an arm behind his head, legs spread wide. ‘He wants you to fuck him really, really hard,’ Mycroft told John. ‘Will you?’

John nodded and fell onto his knees. He shuffled closer and grabbed Greg’s legs, the DI hooking them around John’s waist. ‘Please,’ he begged.

John positioned his cock in front of Greg’s entrance, practically trembling with the desire to fuck Greg as hard as he could.

‘Don’t make him wait,’ Mycroft breathed into his ear.

John pushed his cock in, moaning as Greg’s tightness and heat wrapped around him. Greg gasped loudly both in pain and pleasure and started rocking as soon as John was completely in.

‘Hard, John,’ Mycroft whispered.

John pulled back and jammed himself in, moaning as Greg got tighter and tighter. He was aware of Mycroft crouching beside the couch and watching them carefully. Greg was swearing and sweating, scratching at the couch as John fucked him. John shifted to push himself in deeper, amazed at how tight Greg Lestrade was.

Greg reached for his neglected cock but Mycroft got there first. He wrapped his long, thin fingers around Greg’s prick and started stroking, using Greg’s pre-come and some lube to slick the DI up.

‘Fuck!’ Greg shouted, biting his lip and moaning.

John looked down to watch Mycroft jerk Greg off, the image going straight to his cock. He started moving faster, slamming into Greg with abandonment and making the older man shout again.

Mycroft smiled as John’s thrusts pushed Greg back across the couch. The force of his moments was making Greg’s cock slip in Mycroft’s hand so the politician barely had to move. He leaned up and kissed John heatedly, tasting sweat.

He pulled back and managed to kiss Greg too, the DI panting heavily into his mouth.

‘Come, Gregory,’ Mycroft whispered. ‘I know you want to.’

‘Oh... God...’ Greg groaned. John fucking him was pushing him so close to the edge. Added with Mycroft jerking him off and then Mycroft’s voice... he wasn’t going to last long.

‘Don’t you want Gregory to come?’ Mycroft asked John, turning to look at him. John nodded. ‘Say it.’

‘Come, Greg,’ John asked. ‘I want to hear you.’ Greg whimpered. ‘Come!’

Mycroft turned just in time to see Greg explode, showering his stomach and Mycroft’s hand in come. He moaned and gasped, eyes closed as Mycroft twisted his cock in slim fingers.

Greg got tighter around John. That coupled with Greg coming and Mycroft jerking him off had John gasping and coming inside Greg. He continued to thrust, slower now, his body shaking as an orgasm tore through him.

John and Greg were both panting heavily when John finally slipped out. He fell back to sit on the other end of the couch. Greg’s legs dropped and rested against John’s as the DI wiped sweat from his eyes.

‘Beautiful,’ Mycroft said and captured Greg’s lips again. He moved to kiss John before falling into the seat he’d dragged over. He smiled at the two sweaty and naked men.

Greg smiled and sat up, moaning as he looked down at himself. ‘Jesus, John.’

‘You said hard,’ the doctor shrugged.

Greg laughed. ‘Yeah, yeah I did.’ He smiled, eyes running over John’s body. ‘That was fantastic.’

‘Mm, I know,’ John said.

They both looked at Mycroft. He was clearly still aroused, pupils dilated slightly. But he just sat calmly, seemingly ignorant of the erection straining at his trousers.

‘You okay, love?’ Greg asked.

‘Oh yes,’ Mycroft nodded.

‘He always thinks he knows everything,’ Greg said and John nodded. Mycroft smirked. ‘I think we should teach him a lesson, Dr Watson.’

Mycroft raised an eyebrow as John smiled. ‘I think we should, Detective Inspector.’

They both got to their feet, Greg feeling a little weak. He passed Mycroft and pulled a packet of tissues from the top drawer of the desk. Cleaning himself up he turned to see John kissing Mycroft, his whole body pressed up against the back of the chair.

Greg stepped closer and peeled the condom from John’s now limp cock. John didn’t seem to notice as Greg cleaned him. Once done he went back to them and sat himself on Mycroft’s lap. Mycroft shifted beneath him and Greg felt his erection.

‘Have fun watching us did you?’ Greg asked.

Mycroft broke free of John’s lips and said, ‘Yes.’

Greg pulled him in for a jaw-cracking snog and John watched, leaning against the chair and playing with Mycroft’s hair. When Mycroft started moaning Greg broke free and stood.

‘Where are you going?’ he demanded. Greg smirked and dropped to his knees to pull at Mycroft’s trousers. ‘Oh,’ the politician said and gasped when Greg shoved a hand down his underwear.

Greg pulled his cock free and stroked, using pre-come to slick Mycroft up. Mycroft groaned and arched into Greg’s hand as John started kissing him. He moaned into John’s mouth as Greg’s lips circled his cock and took him completely.

John opened his eyes to see Greg sucking Mycroft off. He felt arousal shoot through his body, straight to his cock. How was it possible that he was getting hard again so soon after fucking Greg?

But it was true; John could feel his cock twitching. He continued to kiss Mycroft before moving to push Greg aside. He gave the DI a quick peck on the lips before taking over, running his tongue along Mycroft’s shaft.

One of Greg’s hands swept through John’s short hair as he and Mycroft both watched.

Greg and John took it in turns to suck Mycroft off before they were both on their knees, tongues running along Mycroft’s cock. The man was amazing; he didn’t even look close to coming. He was just watching them with a smile, biting his lip and gasping whenever one of them sucked at his head.

‘What do we have to do to make you come?’ Greg demanded, pulling away and sitting back on his legs.

Mycroft smiled. ‘Well...’ he said slowly, pulling at his tie.

‘What?’ John asked, swallowing as Mycroft got his tie free and slipped from his jacket.

‘I want you on your hands and knees, John.’

John didn’t even think twice before complying. He fell to his hands next to Greg, looking up to watch. Mycroft got undressed slowly, folding his clothes and putting them on the chair. Greg could feel anticipation slowing threading through his body, mingling with the heat that had pooled in his crotch. His eyes trailed down Mycroft’s now naked form, settling on the man’s throbbing cock.

‘What now?’ he croaked, he and John looking up to meet Mycroft’s eyes.

Mycroft smiled and grabbed a condom, rolling it onto his cock. ‘Gregory, prepare John. He can’t take as much as you.’

‘I can too and you know it!’ John growled.

Mycroft just continued to smile. ‘Gregory, prepare John,’ he repeated and threw the DI the bottle of lube.

Greg looked at John for permission before shifting to kneel behind the doctor after receiving a nod. He squeezed lube onto his fingers before pushing one into John, the shorter man gasping.

‘You okay?’ Greg asked.

‘Mm,’ John managed, closing his eyes and pushing back.

Greg took that as a sign to add another finger, twisting them around to stretch John out. He added a third and curled them to touch John’s prostate.

‘Oh, fuck,’ John gasped and opened his eyes.

Mycroft was standing near him, stroking his condom-clad cock. He nodded in approval and said, ‘Gregory, on your knees before John.’ He laid a towel on the carpet beneath John. ‘Can’t have my superiors seeing that now can we?’

Greg smirked and shuffled along the carpet until he was kneeling before John. He was hard again and John lifted a hand to stroke him quickly, Greg’s cock hardening faster and faster. Mycroft swiped John’s hand away.

‘No, no, you’re not allowed to use your hands.’

John smirked. ‘I’m not?’

‘No,’ Mycroft tutted. ‘Don’t make me punish you, John.’

John smiled. ‘Sorry, sir.’

The whole situation was charged. Greg and John were letting Mycroft take control; well, he always did. Sex was no different to everything else Mycroft Holmes did; he was always in control.

John shivered as he felt Mycroft kneel behind him. The elder Holmes slowly ran the tip of his cock between John’s cheeks, making him moan and beg.

‘I think you need a gag, Dr Watson,’ Mycroft said. ‘Gregory?’

Greg knew what Mycroft wanted and looked down at John.

‘Yes, please,’ John begged and Greg smiled. Slowly he pushed his cock closer and felt John’s lips wrap around the tip. He moaned softly and pushed half his cock in.

Mycroft entered John suddenly and swiftly, pushing the doctor forward. Greg’s cock slipped all the way into his mouth and John choked, spluttering as Greg pulled out.

‘Sorry,’ the DI said as John took a breath.

‘No, it’s fine,’ John said. ‘Come back here.’

Greg smiled and pushed his cock in. John moaned as Mycroft pulled out of him and thrust back in, slower this time so John could adjust.

John knew he wouldn’t last long, not with Mycroft fucking his arse and Greg fucking his face. He moaned as the DI’s hands threaded through his hair, pulling his head forward so he could slip deeper into his mouth. Mycroft was thrusting hard now, hitting his prostate every time. John knew he’d blow soon even without touching his cock.

He came when Mycroft moaned and thrust in violently, Greg’s cock once again slamming into the back of his throat. John choked as his air supply was cut off and felt an orgasm ripped from his gut. He moaned as Greg pulled out slightly, the tip of his cock running along John’s tongue as the doctor gasped and shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut.

John was rolled onto his back and Mycroft slipped out. He took hold of his cock and tugged as he said, ‘Gregory, fuck him, now.’

‘God, yes,’ John begged as Greg moved between his legs.

‘He likes to be fucked even after coming,’ Mycroft said as Greg pushed in.

‘Oh I know,’ Greg smirked.

John moaned loudly and tore at the carpet with his fingers. His dick was limp and flopped around as Greg fell into a quick rhythm, cursing as John’s tightness pulled at him. Mycroft moved and grabbed John’s hand, bringing it to his still aching cock.

John jerked Mycroft off while Greg fucked him, all three gasping and moaning.

Greg came next, spilling into John without a condom. He shuddered and his head flopped forward as he continued to thrust softly.

Mycroft pulled him back and Greg slid onto his side, watching as Mycroft once again pushed into John. He was slicker now, Greg’s come slipping from him onto the towel as Mycroft pushed in.

‘Fuck... me...’ John groaned, eyes shut as Mycroft invaded his body. It had been a good five minutes since he’d come and his body was feeling completely fucked.

Greg watched as Mycroft finally came, gripping John’s legs tightly as he groaned. Greg bent down to kiss a panting John Watson as Mycroft pulled out, sitting back on his legs to watch them.

When they broke apart Mycroft pulled Greg in first, mouth firm and hard against the DI’s.

‘Oi, what about me?’ John demanded.

Mycroft chuckled and pulled back from Greg, leaning down to kiss John. Greg fell onto his back beside John, looking up at the ceiling as his body buzzed. Mycroft laid on John’s other side, taking one of the doctor’s hands in his own and kissing it. Greg smiled at them.

‘Not how I planned to spend my evening,’ he said.

John smiled. ‘No... but fucking good.’

Mycroft chuckled.

‘Sherlock won’t like that we did this without him,’ Greg commented.

‘I’ll send him the footage,’ Mycroft muttered lazily.

‘You filmed that?’ Greg demanded.

‘Of course,’ Mycroft nodded.

John chuckled as Greg slapped Mycroft. ‘Bloody politicians,’ the DI muttered.

‘I thought you loved me,’ Mycroft pouted.

‘I do,’ Greg grinned, giving Mycroft a soft kiss, ‘CCTV cameras and all.’

‘What about me?’ John demanded.

Greg smiled as Mycroft rolled over to kiss him. ‘And of course we love you too, John.’

‘Yup,’ Greg nodded, jabbing John in the leg to prove it.

‘Excellent,’ John smiled.

‘Of course we love you,’ Mycroft said.

‘But I’m a better shag than either of you,’ Greg added.

Mycroft chuckled and John snorted.


	7. Breaking And Entering

**Title: Breaking and Entering**

**Main Pairing: Sherlock/John, Mycroft/Lestrade**

**About: Just how _did_ Sherlock and John find out about Mycroft and Greg? This was originally written for a prompt on the BBC Sherlock kink meme but I think it works in this story :)**

**Warning: Just swearing and small amount of m/m sex**

**Written For: Anonymous**

 

‘This is such a bad idea,’ John groaned for what felt like the fiftieth time that day.

‘Shut up, John,’ Sherlock scowled as he finally got the door open. He grinned and stood. ‘Remind me to thank my brother for teaching me how to pick locks.’

John rolled his eyes as he stepped into the flat behind his boyfriend. ‘Yeah, ’course. ‘Hey, Mycroft, Sherlock said thanks for teaching him to pick locks. It means he can break into DI’s flats and steal evidence’.’

‘It’s not stealing,’ Sherlock said as he peered around. ‘More like... borrowing.’

John snorted as he stood by the door, watching Sherlock gaze around. The flat was rather tidy and spartan; only a small coffee table, couch, and TV cabinet in the living room. The kitchen had a few plates and pans but not much, indicating the owner mostly ate out... or didn’t entertain much.

‘I wish our flat was this clean,’ John commented.

‘Boring,’ Sherlock said dryly.

‘Sherlock, honestly, how is any of this a good idea? Didn’t you say it was Greg’s day off?’

Sherlock peered under the couch, like maybe Greg Lestrade kept files beneath it. ‘Yes, it is.’

‘So... won’t be home?’ John asked.

‘No, he is at his lover’s.’

John frowned at that. He and Greg were mates; not best mates, but mates nonetheless. The DI hadn’t mentioned anything to him.

‘He hasn’t mentioned it because Lestrade considered himself mostly straight until he met his current lover.’

Well, wasn’t John’s day just full of surprises? First Sherlock makes him tea, then he takes him out for lunch, following by a quick detour to break into a Detective Inspector’s flat followed by, ‘Oh, and Lestrade’s shagging a bloke’.

‘I... what?’ John managed.

Sherlock straightened from his examination of the bookcase to look at John. ‘Lestrade has a new lover; a lover who is a man. John, what part of my first sentence did you no understand?’

‘All of it,’ John admitted.

Sherlock scowled. ‘Honestly, John, why do I put up with you?’

‘’Cause I’m a good shag?’ John ventured. That got a smile and John chuckled. ‘Just... God, we’ll talk about this later, yeah? I don’t think Greg would appreciate us discussing his sex life in his flat while he’s not here, especially after the divorce.’

‘Yes, he _is_ rather sensitive about it, Lord knows why,’ Sherlock murmured, now poking through the stack of files on Greg’s coffee table.

‘Sherlock, he was married for eight years. That’s eight years just... gone.’

‘So?’

John sighed. ‘Never mind,’ he muttered before crossing the living room to stand before his partner. ‘What are you looking for?’

‘A case Lestrade was given yesterday,’ Sherlock said. ‘I wanted to look at the bead that was found but Lestrade was rather ticked off about the condoms I put on his desk and wouldn’t let me see it.’

‘Yeah, um, why _did_ you put ten boxes of condoms on his desk?’ John asked.

Sherlock smirked at him. ‘To remind our dear DI to practice safe sex, John.’

‘Right, of course,’ John just shrugged. Really, he was too nervous to probe into his lover’s bizarre brain at that moment. They were breaking and entering... and it was a DI’s flat, one that they knew! Somehow John didn’t think Greg would be okay with it... and knowing it was Sherlock Greg would probably chuck them in a cell just for the fun of it. ‘Sherlock, just hurry up,’ John said.

Suddenly there was a bang from somewhere down the hallway and both men froze.

‘Sherlock?’ John questioned. ‘Are you _sure_ Greg’s not home?’

‘Well...’ Sherlock began and John glared at him.

‘Sherlock!’

‘Quiet!’ Sherlock hissed back as a rather loud moan echoed down the hallway. He grinned suddenly. ‘Oh, marvellous, he’s here with his lover.’ Stealing evidence suddenly forgotten, Sherlock straightened and peered down the hallway.

It was then that John spotted the umbrella against the wall by the door, something his body had been blocking from Sherlock’s view. John would recognise it anywhere...

 _OH MY GOD!_ His brain imploded. Suddenly John ran to the hallway, standing before it and pushing Sherlock back.

‘John?’ his boyfriend questioned.

‘Er, I don’t think you want to go down there,’ John said. If he was right about the umbrella, and the umbrella owner... Jesus Christ on a stick!

‘Why not?’ Sherlock demanded. ‘I can tease Lestrade endlessly for his taste in men.’

‘Sherlock, I’m begging you, don’t go down there.’

Sherlock just rolled his eyes and shoved John aside. But John wasn’t giving up; he latched onto Sherlock’s coat, trying to drag his boyfriend back. Unfortunately Sherlock was stronger then he looked and managed to stamp all the way down the hallway, pulling John along the floorboards.

In a last ditch attempt, John threw his arms around Sherlock’s waist.

‘Seriously, don’t!’ he shouted.

Sherlock ignored him and pushed open the door to Greg’s bedroom–

– the noise Sherlock made was somewhere between a gasp, a gurgle, a swallow, and a whimper. He managed to sound like he was swallowing his tongue and swearing all at the same time. John peered around Sherlock’s body and swore.

Gregory Lestrade was atop Mycroft Holmes, the politician’s hands pinned to the headboard by the DI’s large fingers. Both men were frozen, right in the middle of sex, eyes wide as they looked at Sherlock and John.

It was Mycroft who shouted first.

‘SHERLOCK!’

Sherlock turned and ran, John falling on his arse as his boyfriend stepped over him. He managed to get up, Greg already scrambling off the bed and pulling boxers on.

‘Son of a fucking–’

‘God, I’m sorry,’ John said before he too was running.

Somehow Sherlock had forgotten just how doors worked. He was pulling at the main door handle, whimpering and muttering and looking more freaked out then John had ever seen him. John’s efforts to pry Sherlock’s fingers free proved fruitless and in seconds they were joined by Mycroft and Greg.

‘What the fuck are you doing in my flat?’ the DI demanded. He was half-naked, wearing only boxers and looking sweaty and... well, fucked. Mycroft had his trousers on, the belt open but zip and button done up. John had never seen the man so casual (and in that little clothing) and just stared, mouth falling open.

‘Sherlock!’ Mycroft shouted.

‘No, no, I’m not turning around!’ Sherlock said, once again trying to get the door open. ‘No, no, _no_!’

‘Sherlock, what are you doing here?’ Mycroft said. ‘We locked the door–’

‘Sherlock picked it,’ John said, all eyes moving to him. He blushed and looked down. ‘I... told him not to,’ he mumbled.

‘Sherlock, of all the fucking stupid arsed things you’ve ever done!’ Greg snarled. ‘Breaking into a police officer’s _flat_?’

‘I didn’t _know_!’ Sherlock whined, back still to the other three men. ‘I didn’t know you... and Mycroft... let me out!’

‘Sherlock, we’re going to discuss this like adults,’ Mycroft said.

‘I don’t want to,’ his brother pouted.

‘I don’t care,’ Mycroft said and sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. ‘What you just saw... wasn’t the first time.’

‘Dear _God_ ,’ Sherlock groaned.

‘Gregory and I are together.’

Sherlock finally turned to glare at him. ‘Gregory? _Gregory_?’

‘One does tend to call their boyfriend by their first name,’ Mycroft said.

‘ _Boyfriend_?’ Sherlock shouted.

‘Sherlock, calm down,’ John murmured.

‘No I will _not_ calm down!’ Sherlock screamed, rounding on John. ‘Did you know about this?’

‘God no,’ John shook his head. ‘I found out the same time you did. I didn’t even know Greg was sleeping with a bloke, remember?’

Greg groaned and rubbed his eyes. ‘Fucking shit bollocks.’

‘I don’t want to talk about this,’ Sherlock said. ‘Let me out!’ He turned and started on the door handle again, finally ripping it free.

‘I love him, Sherlock!’ Mycroft shouted. Sherlock didn’t listen, instead tearing through the door and outside. ‘If that helps,’ Mycroft said softly.

He, Greg and John stood in silence, staring at the open door. Finally John cleared his throat.

‘Well,’ he said slowly, ‘erm... sorry.’

‘Fucking hell, John,’ Greg glared at the shorter man. ‘Didn’t think to stop him, did you?’

‘Me?’ John said. ‘What the hell could I have done? I tried a dozen times to talk him out of it but he’s Sherlock!’

‘He’s your boyfriend, learn to control him!’ Greg shouted.

John just smirked. ‘Yeah, ’cause controlling a Holmes is always easy.’

They lapsed into silence again, Mycroft fiddling with his belt, Greg glaring at John and John pointedly not looking at either man.

‘Well,’ he said again. ‘I’ll just go. I... congratulations?’

Greg managed a chuckle, anger suddenly deflating. ‘Yeah, thanks.’

‘So you two... how long?’

‘Six months,’ Mycroft said.

‘And Sherlock didn’t know?’ John questioned.

‘He knew I was shagging a bloke,’ Greg said, ‘didn’t know who.’

‘Yeah, about that...’ John said. ‘If you wanna talk, well... I know all about suddenly liking men.’

Greg laughed again. ‘Right. How about a pint? Let me know Sherlock’s not gonna kill me in my sleep for doing his brother.’

‘Honestly, Gregory,’ Mycroft rolled his eyes but gave his partner a small smile. John could see it there; the love, the devotion... they really were happy together.

‘Right,’ John nodded. ‘So congrats again and I’ll just...’ He walked out the door, not bothering to say goodbye. He found Sherlock outside, puffing on a cigarette. ‘Where the bloody hell did you get that?’

Sherlock just grunted.

‘Erm, love, I think they really care about each other.’

Another grunt.

‘It’s not just sex.’

A groan.

‘They care about–’

‘John, I don’t want to think about it,’ the sociopath cut him off. ‘ _Please_.’

‘Right,’ John nodded and went silent. Sherlock finished his cigarette and hailed a taxi, the two men climbing in. John waited a few minutes before saying, ‘I told you breaking into Greg’s flat was a bad idea.’

Sherlock groaned and thumped his head against the window.


	8. You Complete Me

**Title: You Complete Me**

**Main Pairing: Mycroft/Sherlock**

**Other: None**

**About: How exactly did Sherlock manage to convince his brother that they completed each other?**

**Warning: Explicit Holmescest, angst**

Mycroft Holmes always knew that his brother was going to be beautiful. He was a cute baby, an adorable child, and a gorgeous young boy. The elder Holmes knew that when Sherlock grew up he would be beautiful. He just didn’t realise what kind of affect that would have on him.

He didn’t notice it until Sherlock was fifteen. Returning home from work for Christmas, Mycroft’s mouth literally fell open when he set eyes on his younger brother.

Sherlock had grown considerably in the two years since Mycroft had seen him. Mycroft had left a sullen, moody thirteen-year-old; still short, still going through puberty, and suddenly angry at the world.

Now he saw a tall, almost-man with thick lashes, curly raven hair and a long, lean body. Sherlock was now only four inches shorter than Mycroft and still had room to grow. Gone was the angry, bitter look that he’d sported last time. Now he looked at Mycroft like he was an interesting beetle; like he’d like to force Mycroft down and inspect each and every inch of him.

Mycroft didn’t like it; didn’t like what his brother’s mere _look_ was doing to him. It wasn’t right, it was confusing, and Mycroft pushed it away. Unfortunately for Mycroft, Sherlock had noticed.

 

{oOo}

 

It became more obvious to Mycroft the following year that he was having... strange thoughts about his brother. Once again home for the holidays, he found an even taller Sherlock at home. Now only three inches shorter than his brother, Sherlock had filled out more. His face was less rounded, his cheekbones more prominent; he was beginning to look like the man he was going to become.

He paused to regard Mycroft coldly before going into the dining room. Mycroft ignored his suddenly thumping heart and followed.

He was barely through the door before Sherlock was pushing him against the wall, hands warm and hard on Mycroft’s chest.

‘Hello, brother,’ Sherlock said, voice deeper then Mycroft had ever heard it.

‘Sherlock,’ Mycroft said.

Sherlock smirked. ‘Why do you look so flushed?’

Mycroft just shrugged, not daring to answer. He also shut down his thoughts. Ever since they were little, Mycroft and Sherlock had been able to... understand each other’s thoughts. It wasn’t mind reading, it was just the ability to understand someone completely. The way Sherlock moved and looked... Mycroft just _knew_ what his little brother was thinking. Sherlock too could understand Mycroft’s thoughts, his feelings. They shared a connection that nobody could understand. It was like a twin thing, except for the fact that there was a ten year age gap.

Sherlock tilted his head, ice-blue eyes narrowed. ‘Why are you being so silent?’

 _I’m not_.

Sherlock smiled. _Yes you are._

_Sherlock, please._

_Please what?_

Mycroft pushed him away, which turned out to be a very bad idea. He could feel Sherlock’s body heat through his thin shirt, could smell the deodorant he was wearing. Mycroft swallowed hard, pants suddenly feeling much too tight.

 _What is it, brother?_ Sherlock asked.

Mycroft shook his head and turned. _Nothing_. He could feel Sherlock’s eyes on him but didn’t dare look back.

 

{oOo}

 

Mycroft’s feelings became obvious (at least to himself... and Sherlock) the year after that. Mummy had managed to convince him to take time off work and he came home one stormy night to find the house in darkness.

‘Mummy?’

There was no answer.

‘Hello?’ Mycroft called.

‘No need to yell, brother.’

Mycroft didn’t jump; men like Mycroft Holmes did _not_ jump. ‘Brother, how delightful.’

He could feel the smirk on his brother’s face. ‘Mummy is sleeping; the storm worries her bones.’

‘And the lights?’ Mycroft asked.

‘Martin is seeing to them.’

Mycroft nodded; he knew Sherlock would be able to tell, even in the dark. ‘I see. And how have you been?’

‘Fine.’

Mycroft rolled his eyes. ‘That is what you always say, brother.’

Sherlock smiled; Mycroft knew. ‘That’s because I am always fine.’

They went silent, Mycroft standing by the front door, Sherlock somewhere close by. Suddenly he felt a warm, wet body pressed into his. ‘Sherlock?’

‘Sorry,’ Sherlock said but didn’t sound it, ‘I fell.’

 _Fell_ , Mycroft scoffed.

 _Don’t believe me, I don’t care_ , Sherlock thought with a shrug.

Mycroft just tutted and helped his brother stand tall. He realised, with a rather heated shot of pleasure, that Sherlock was wet. Water was dripping down his shirt, Mycroft could feel the wet cloth sticking to his alabaster skin. His arms were wet too, his fingers cold where they gripped Mycroft’s hand.

It was then and there, as his cock twitched, that Mycroft realised he was in love with his brother. He wanted to... Jesus Christ, he wanted to kiss Sherlock. He wanted to feel his brother beneath him, wanted to hear his little brother shout in pleasure as Mycroft fucked him.

He pulled back immediately and heard Sherlock stumble.

‘Mycroft, what the hell?’ the younger Holmes demanded.

Mycroft didn’t listen, instead ripped the front door open and went outside. He made sure to walk for a few minutes to make sure Sherlock wasn’t following. When he realised he was alone, Mycroft collapsed against a tree, heart pounding.

 _No, no, no_ , he thought. _No, that’s wrong, I shouldn’t be thinking of Sherlock that way._ But again his cock twitched, imagining a pair of long, pale fingers wrapping around it. _No!_ Mycroft shouted at himself. _I do not want to have sex with Lock!_

As if purposely to kill him, his cock stirred, turning harder as Mycroft’s thoughts revolved around his little brother.

 _No_ , Mycroft thought, falling to sit on the wet ground. Rain fell heavily around him but Mycroft didn’t care. _No_.

 

{oOo}

 

He managed to stay clear of Sherlock until, once again, they were thrown together at home. Mummy’s birthday this year was a big celebration; for some reason the woman wanted a very big party.

Mycroft, having skilfully avoided his brother the entire week he’d been home, suddenly found himself cornered outside on the patio.

‘My, why are you avoiding me?’

‘I’m not,’ Mycroft said, swallowing. His brother was wearing a jet-black suit, his shirt a dark shade of purple. It clung to his body tightly, leaving little doubt that he was very thin and very sexy beneath his clothes.

Sherlock was now only an inch shorter than Mycroft and seemed to have stopped growing. At eighteen, he was definitely a man. Oh yes, in later life he would no doubt get sharper. He’d begin to look older once he reached his thirties. And later he’d soften, would turn into an older man. Grey, perhaps, but with the same alabaster skin and striking eyes.

His hair was perfectly curled, strands dark brown and so soft. His lips were full and purple, wet from where Sherlock had licked them. His cheekbones looked like they could cut diamonds, his lashes were thick and dark.

Finally, he was beautiful.

And Mycroft was completely fucked.

‘Why are you avoiding me?’ Sherlock asked again.

‘I’m not,’ Mycroft frowned.

‘Yes you are,’ Sherlock said, licking his lips again.

Mycroft barely managed to stifle the groan. The year apart had done nothing to diminish the arousal he felt for his brother. He knew it was wrong, knew everything in the entire universe was against two brothers having sex. But Mycroft couldn’t deny, not to himself, that he very much wanted to have sex with Sherlock. His little brother was perfect; beautiful, smart, dangerous. He knew how Mycroft’s mind worked, he was the only person in the world who could understand how hard it was to have a mind like Mycroft’s.

‘I miss how close we used to be, brother,’ Sherlock said, stepping closer. Mycroft could feel his body heat now; could smell his cologne. ‘I miss you, My.’

‘I miss you too, Lock,’ Mycroft said, Sherlock grinning at the childhood nickname. ‘But I’ve been busy.’

‘No, you’ve been staying away from me,’ Sherlock said. Suddenly his eyes slid down Mycroft’s body. The term, ‘undressing someone with your eyes,’ had never been more appropriate. ‘Have you been staying away because of how you feel?’

Mycroft’s brain stalled. ‘What?’

 _Have you been staying away because you are attracted to me, My?_ Sherlock thought, eyes back on his brother’s.

Mycroft shook his head. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he said softly.

Sherlock stepped forward until their bodies were pressed together. Mycroft cursed himself for allowing it; his cock had a mind of its own, jumping to attention at the feel of Sherlock’s body. Mycroft swallowed and looked away.

 _I’m sorry_.

Sherlock reached up, taking Mycroft’s face in one hand. _Don’t apologise, My._

 _It’s wrong_ , Mycroft thought. _I..._ I’m _wrong._

 _No you’re not!_ Mycroft looked up, could see the fierce look in Sherlock’s eyes. ‘You are not wrong, My,’ Sherlock said aloud. ‘Nothing about us is wrong.’

‘This is,’ Mycroft said. ‘How I feel is wrong, Sherlock. I... I apologise.’

Sherlock rolled his eyes. ‘You can be so thick sometimes.’

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. Rather than say anything, Sherlock rolled his hips, pushing his crotch into his brother’s. Mycroft gasped at what he felt. Not only was his hardening cock pressing into his brother’s thigh, but Sherlock... Sherlock’s own cock was rock hard, straining against his trousers. Mycroft looked up quickly.

_I love you, My, you know that._

_I... Sherlock, what?_

Sherlock smiled. _I’m attracted to you, My._

Mycroft’s eyes went wide. _No, no, you can’t be._

 _I am. I have been since I was fifteen. Since I saw the way you looked at me when you came home_.

Mycroft closed his eyes; he remembered that well.

_And later, when you came home and I was sixteen... I pushed you against the wall and you... you were so beautiful, My; you were hot for me._

_No._

_Yes,_ Sherlock thought. _And when I was seventeen... and now. You are attracted to me, My. You want to have sex with me._

_No!_

_Don’t deny it, Mycroft!_ Sherlock’s thoughts assaulted Mycroft angrily, finally forcing the elder Holmes to open his eyes. _Don’t deny it, Mycroft,_ Sherlock thought, now softly. _Please, don’t lie._

Mycroft swallowed and took a deep breath before nodding. _Yes. Yes, okay?_

_You want to have sex with me?_

Mycroft hesitated. _Yes._

_Good._

_Good? Sherlock, how is that good?_

_Because I want to have sex with you too._

He rolled his hips as if to prove it and Mycroft pushed him back. ‘No, Sherlock.’

‘Why not?’ Sherlock asked.

‘We can’t.’

‘Why?’

‘Because!’ Mycroft shouted. ‘It’s wrong, Sherlock! We... we...’

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too,’ Mycroft said. ‘We’re brothers, Sherlock, we’re supposed to love each other.’

‘Not like this,’ Sherlock said, stepping closer. Mycroft moved away from the wall, putting distance between them. ‘Mycroft, there’s more to this than brotherly love. You know how my mind works, how fast and dangerous it is. Nobody else does, not one single person.’ He paused, eyes locked onto Mycroft’s. ‘My, you are the only person who understands me completely.’

‘I know,’ Mycroft sighed. ‘I know, Sherlock, but–’

‘But what?’ Sherlock demanded. ‘Why can’t we do this?’

Mycroft stared at him. _You can’t seriously be suggesting that we have sex._

_I am._

_We... no, Sherlock!_

Sherlock frowned. ‘I want you, you want me.’

‘Sherlock!’ Mycroft hissed.

His younger brother ignored him. _I want you to complete me, My,_ he thought. _I know that this will complete me. I can’t ignore how I feel any longer; I need you._

But Mycroft shook his head. ‘No.’

‘My–’

‘NO!’ Mycroft tore himself from the patio, going back inside and disappearing into the crowd. He couldn’t, no, he couldn’t have se... NO!

Mycroft stayed away from Sherlock as long as he could. But Sherlock’s words, his beauty, the way his cock had pressed against Mycroft’s thigh stayed in the politician’s mind for two long years.

He knew what Sherlock was saying; knew that no one understood the Holmes brothers... only Mycroft understood Sherlock completely and vice versa.

But no, Mycroft couldn’t... he _couldn’t_.

 

{oOo}

 

Sherlock never gave up. One thing could be said about Sherlock Holmes; he was a persistent fucker. He stalked Mycroft’s mobile, sending a message once a week, begging Mycroft to reconsider. He followed Mycroft every time the politician could make it home, always pushing his body into Mycroft’s, his cock against Mycroft’s own.

But still Mycroft resisted, still he refused to go down that road with his little brother.

Everything changed when Sherlock turned twenty.

 

{oOo}

 

Mycroft was feeling exhausted as he entered his room. He’d had to sit through dinner with Mummy and Father prattling on about... something, Mycroft really couldn’t remember. Sherlock had been staring at him from across the table, his eyes undressing Mycroft like usual.

Work was difficult, Mycroft was tired and underappreciated, and the elder Holmes was finding that his infatuation with his brother refused to go away.

All of this was why he didn’t see Sherlock until it was too late. Suddenly the younger Holmes was just there, arms crossed, eyes locked onto Mycroft.

‘Sherlock, please, I’m tired.’

‘Me too,’ Sherlock said. ‘Shall we go to bed?’

Mycroft frowned. ‘Yes. Your room is down the hall, please go there.’

‘No.’

Mycroft sighed. ‘Why not?’

‘I want to have sex with you.’

Mycroft immediately tensed. ‘No, Sherlock. We’ve talked about this.’

‘No, you’ve refused to act on what we both feel,’ Sherlock said. ‘I know you want me.’ Mycroft bit his lip and Sherlock smirked.

‘We can’t, Sherlock, I’ve told you that.’

‘I still think that we should.’

‘I don’t care, we’re not doing it.’

Sherlock chuckled. ‘‘Doing it?’ My, my, since when did you start using _that_ term?’

Mycroft turned away, not wanting Sherlock to see the answer in his eyes. Unfortunately Sherlock could hear his thoughts.

‘Sleeping around with young men, Mycroft? Whatever would your superiors think?’

‘What I do with my personal life is none of their business,’ Mycroft replied.

‘Exactly,’ Sherlock said. ‘So why should you and me being together affect them? They don’t even have to know.’

‘We are not together, Sherlock.’

‘We could be.’

‘ _No_.’

‘I need you, My,’ Sherlock said, now whining. Mycroft shook his head.

‘No, Sherlock, we can’t.’

‘Why _not_?’ the younger Holmes demanded.

Mycroft turned to glare at him. ‘We are brothers, Sherlock! I know you care little about social conventions, and neither do I, but it... it’s just _wrong_.’

Sherlock scowled. ‘Don’t tell me that what I feel is _wrong_. Don’t tell me that my love for you is _wrong_ , brother! Don’t you dare!’ He was crying suddenly and saw Mycroft’s face soften. Sherlock pulled away, folding his arms and closing his eyes. He could hear Mycroft from where he was and, for the first time in his life, wished he and his brother didn’t share this gift.

_Sherlock, I’m sorry._

_Don’t,_ Sherlock shook his head and mouthed along to his thoughts, _don’t tell me that what we feel is wrong._

He heard Mycroft sigh before, _Sherlock, please, you can’t ask me to do this._

 _I love you, My._ Sherlock felt his brother tense. _You know I do._

_I... yes, I know._

_I want to love you completely, My, because_ you _complete me._ Sherlock swallowed, tongue feeling thick. _I need to be with you completely. I can’t... I can’t stand being alone anymore._

Strong arms wrapped around Sherlock’s waist and the younger Holmes nearly melted right there.

_You’re not alone, Sherlock._

_I am... I need to share myself with you. My, it gets so dark, being me. I know it’s the same with you._

A pause. _Yes._

_I’m so alone, My._

_I am too, brother._

_Please?_

Mycroft had stopped thinking and Sherlock turned in his arms. His brother’s eyes were dark, his lips pressed together. He still looked more beautiful than anyone Sherlock had ever met. He was still everything to Sherlock, even with the bickering and the anger and the differences. Mycroft had and always would be able to understand Sherlock completely.

‘Please?’ Sherlock asked. _No one needs to know_ , he continued silently and saw Mycroft’s eyes waver. _I don’t need anyone else to know, My. I just need to be with you; now, later, forever._

Mycroft’s arms shuddered as, slowly, Sherlock leaned up to breath his next words over his brother’s lips.

‘You complete me, My.’

Mycroft broke down and finally gave in. He pressed their lips together and Sherlock groaned. What he’d wanted his entire life, and had only realised when he was fifteen, was finally happening; he was kissing his brother.

Mycroft pulled Sherlock in and crushed their bodies together, arms tightening around Sherlock’s skinny frame. Sherlock moaned and wrapped his own around Mycroft’s neck, tilting his head to better fit them together.

It was like all the darkness, all the shit Sherlock felt, melted away against his brother’s lips. Mycroft’s warmth, his power, his light and love were finally breaking through the younger man and washing everything else away. For the first time in his life Sherlock could feel himself calming down; could feel his brain fading into the background and _finally_ shutting up.

Sherlock’s lips were soft yet somehow hard at the same time. They parted against Mycroft’s, opening up so his brother could taste him. Mycroft’s tongue plunged into Sherlock’s mouth and he moaned. Sherlock tasted... he was spectacular, better than any aged Scotch or any expensive dish. He tasted like danger and hope; like love and wildness and... he tasted like Sherlock.

Mycroft’s tongue was thorough, exploring every inch of Sherlock’s mouth. Sherlock sucked back on the thick, juicy organ, knowing he’d never be able to forget how Mycroft tasted and felt. It was _the_ very best thing Sherlock had ever tasted.

‘I need you, My,’ Sherlock whispered, Mycroft groaning against him. ‘Please.’

Mycroft moved to lock the door before dragging Sherlock to his bed. Sherlock’s heart hammered in his chest as Mycroft forced him down, starting on his shoes and working his way up.

Mycroft groaned when Sherlock was completely naked, looking at the fine, beautiful body he had admired since Sherlock had become a man.

His skin was soft, pale, his body all long limbs and soft edges. His legs were thin yet muscular, his stomach holding not an ounce of fat. Mycroft took in the dark bellybutton and soft ginger hair that littered his little brother’s stomach. He followed the trail up to Sherlock’s chest, to his hard nipples and strong muscles.

He took in Sherlock’s arms, so wiry yet firm, pale and freckled and _beautiful._ That long, pale neck made Mycroft drool and he swallowed before once again moving his eyes down Sherlock’s body.

Mycroft rested on Sherlock crotch, finally looking at the hard, hot flesh he had wanted to grab since he was twenty-five years-old. Sherlock was... he was beautiful and long and thick and _hard_. For Mycroft; he was hard just for Mycroft.

The elder Holmes flicked his eyes back up, locking them with his brother’s. Both sets of eyes were pale blue, were dark with thoughts and arousal and _need_.

‘Sherlock,’ Mycroft whispered, unsure what he wanted to say. Sherlock sat up, held out his hand. Mycroft took it, threading their fingers together. He climbed onto the bed slowly, pressing his still clothed body against his brother’s. Sherlock moaned as Mycroft kissed him, pale lips soft against Sherlock’s full ones.

He moved down to Sherlock’s jaw, tongue licking trails and making Sherlock shudder. Finally he could suck back on that neck; he could lick and bite and press kisses to the beautifully pale neck his brother owned.

Mycroft moved down again, now pressing kisses to Sherlock’s collarbone, his chest, his right nipple. Sherlock groaned loudly, fisting his free hand in Mycroft’s expensive jacket. Slowly Mycroft could feel his loneliness flitter away to be replaced with Sherlock’s wildness, his thoughts and body and just _him_. Mycroft never felt alone, not when Sherlock was around. His brain was melding with Sherlock, was finally shutting up and letting Mycroft just _be_.

Mycroft dipped his tongue into Sherlock’s bellybutton before licking down to his cock. Sherlock’s long, slender prick twitched as Mycroft lapped at the head, the younger Holmes moaning loudly.

‘Sherlock,’ Mycroft breathed across his shaft, stopping to look up.

His brother’s eyes were wide and dark with lust, his lips bruised from kissing. _My?_

 _If I do this_ , Mycroft swallowed before continuing, _if I do this I can never stop. Once we do this, brother, there is no going back._

Sherlock didn’t even hesitate. He cupped Mycroft’s face in one hand, stroking Mycroft’s cheek with his thumb. _I will never stop loving you, My,_ never _. Do you hear me?_

Mycroft nodded.

_Don’t stop, My._

_Thank you, Lock._

Sherlock grinned and fell back onto the bed. Licking his lips, Mycroft grabbed Sherlock’s cock with one hand and wrapped his lips around the tip.

Sherlock’s groan was purely feral as Mycroft took him completely, tongue hot and wet on his cock. He cursed and shuddered, legs bending as he tried to force himself deeper into Mycroft’s mouth.

Mycroft had always been surprised by Sherlock; had never been able to predict his brother’s moods. Right then and there he was glad, for the first time in his life, that Sherlock was so wild and unpredictable. Because having his brother’s cock shoved roughly down his throat was _the_ best feeling the politician had ever experienced in his life.

He moaned loudly and sucked back harder, taking Sherlock completely again and again, tongue twirling and teeth scraping.

Suddenly Sherlock was pulling him up, lips crashing together. That had... Sherlock had no words for how wonderful it felt to have his brothers lips wrapped around his cock. It was spectacular, amazing... he needed Mycroft _now_.

 _Please,_ Sherlock thought, pulling at Mycroft’s tie. _Need... you..._

Mycroft nodded and drew back, Sherlock watching him undress.

Mycroft was wider than Sherlock, his frame broader. He had soft, ginger chest hair and his skin had more colour than the younger Holmes’. His cock was slightly longer and thicker, Sherlock’s mouth watering as Mycroft turned, giving the younger man a nice view of his perfect arse.

Mycroft opened the drawer of his bedside table and turned with a bottle of lubricant and a condom box. Sherlock stood and grabbed the condoms, throwing them away.

‘No,’ he whispered, ‘I need to feel you completely.’

Mycroft swallowed but nodded. He pushed Sherlock back and moved between his legs, looking down. Sherlock was so beautiful, spread out on Mycroft’s expensive sheets, chest rising and falling, lips bruised from kissing. His cock was wet with Mycroft’s saliva, pre-come leaking onto his stomach.

 _My_.

 _Lock_ , Mycroft responded, smiling up at him. He popped the cap of the lube.

 _No preparation_ , Sherlock thought. _Please._

Mycroft nodded and slathered cool gel over his throbbing erection, dropping the bottle to stroke his shaft. He took his cock in one hand and moved it to Sherlock’s puckered entrance, both men shivering.

 _Are you sure?_ Mycroft asked, concern overpowering his lust, his need.

 _Yes_ , Sherlock replied.

With another smile, Mycroft pushed in.

 _MY!_ Sherlock’s brain exploded, his body quivering as Mycroft pushed in completely.

 _Oh God_. Mycroft’s thoughts were all moans and cusses as he was completely encased in his brother’s heat. Sherlock was tight, was hot, was the most spectacular thing Mycroft had ever felt. _Oh God, fuck._

 _I love when you swear_.

Mycroft chuckled and wrapped his left arm around Sherlock’s shoulders, hauling his little brother up to press their chests together. He kissed Sherlock slowly, lovingly, his other hand wrapping around Sherlock’s cock.

 _Move,_ Sherlock thought.

Mycroft complied.

Their rhythm was slow, steady, loving. Mycroft pulled all the way out before going back in, moaning Sherlock’s name as his brother’s muscles pulled at his shaft. He kept one arm wrapped around Sherlock, pressing their bodies together so they could kiss and _feel_ each other.

Sherlock had never felt anyone as big and long as Mycroft. His brother was stretching his muscles completely, filling Sherlock with love and lust and heat and _fuck_. Sherlock put one hand on Mycroft’s waist, drawing his brother in and pushing his arse up to meet every thrust. His other hand came up to Mycroft’s head, fingers pushing through his brother’s wavy hair.

‘Fuck, Sherlock,’ Mycroft moaned, lips bruising against Sherlock’s.

‘Mycroft,’ Sherlock groaned, thrusting into Mycroft’s fist.

Slowly, each and every thought either man had ever had winked out of existence; like a million stars slowly burning out. Their pleasure was like the sun; bursting up and pushing the darkness, the anger, the loneliness aside. Neither man had ever felt so filled, so loved, so... understood.

This, what they were doing, it wasn’t about sex; it was more than that. It was about being with someone who understood how hard it was to be a Holmes. It was about giving yourself over to someone who understood you _completely._ Mycroft and Sherlock had never felt this okay, had never felt like they were part of the world.

Right then, in that dark room, pressed against each other and cussing... everything was okay.

Mycroft started moving faster, slipping into his brother and moaning. Sherlock met each and every push, muscles squeezing around Mycroft’s cock, drawing a climax closer and closer.

 _I need to feel you, Mycroft,_ Sherlock thought. _Come inside me. Make me complete._

 _Yes_ , Mycroft thought, nodding. _God yes, Sherlock._

‘Mycroft,’ Sherlock groaned loudly, squeezing his eyes shut as he fast approached a climax of his own.

‘Come for me,’ Mycroft whispered. ‘Come for me, Sherlock,’

‘Oh God.’

‘Sherlock... God... LOCK!’ Mycroft came with a long, drawn-out shout, cock throbbing as it emptied into Sherlock.

Sherlock tensed immediately and his own orgasm rushed from him, spilling across his stomach and Mycroft’s hand. ‘MY!’ he screamed, biting his bottom lip hard.

It was like a hurricane; a supernova... it was... no, there were no words. Nothing in the English language, or any other language, could ever explain how completely fucking gorgeous their orgasms were.

For a few, blissful moments, their minds shut up completely and went black. For a few moments they were just _there_ , together, two men who needed each other more than anything else in the world.

Mycroft slipped out when his brain started humming again, duller than it had ever been before. He rolled onto his back and Sherlock went with him, curling himself around his elder brother and hugging him tight.

‘Sherlock?’

He didn’t answer.

Mycroft frowned, turned. ‘Lock?’

‘Thank you,’ Sherlock managed to sob, tears coating his cheeks.

‘What’s wrong?’ Mycroft asked.

‘Nothing,’ Sherlock said and when he looked up he was smiling. ‘Not a damn thing, My.’

Mycroft smiled and leaned forward, pressing their lips together. ‘Come on, bed.’

‘Can I stay here?’

‘Yes.’ Mycroft had no intention of giving Sherlock up, not now. No, now that they had finally been together completely, Mycroft could never walk away.

They cleaned themselves up before climbing under the covers, holding each other tight.

‘You complete me, My,’ Sherlock whispered.

Mycroft hummed and pulled him in closer. ‘You complete me too, Lock.’

Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes, breathing becoming regular as he drifted to sleep.

 _Complete me_ , he thought groggily.

 _I know_ , Mycroft replied.


End file.
